On Casual Commitments
by wishingforatypewriter
Summary: It had been several years since Yukihira Souma and Nakiri Erina graduated from Tōtsuki, and she was getting tired of hooking up with him other people's weddings.
1. On Casual Commitments

Everyone who was anyone knew that Nakiri Alice, the new head of Nakiri International and owner-chef of haute cuisine restaurants like Vapor in Tokyo and Deconstruct Denmark, did not cater. Ever.

Every dish she created was an individual jewel of innovation, a gastronomical research project in miniature. Her work simply couldn't be mass-produced. But after a series of unforeseeable events that included shameless begging, international politics, and first-row tickets to New York Fashion Week, Alice had catered a platinum wedding. Her food, of course, had been the highlight of the evening. But in her opinion, everything else about the festivities, though obscenely expensive, had been disappointing at best.

"You should have seen it, babe," she said as her former aide drove them back to their Copenhagen penthouse. "The bridesmaids were all in this swamp green color, and their dresses weren't even the same. And don't even get me started on those floral arrangements. I could have planned one so much better, don't you think?"

"Sure."

"At least say it with some more enthusiasm!"

At this Ryo sighed, mostly focused on the road ahead—much to his long-time girlfriend's irritation. "I'm sure you would have planned a better wedding because you excel at everything. Happy?"

"It'll do," she said. And normally that would have been enough to appease her. But later that evening as they reclined in bed, about to turn in for the night, she started up again.

"You know, Ryo," she said, gazing up at him through bleary eyes. "The toasts at the reception were so boring. Our friends would make much better toasts."

"What does it matter?"

"I don't know." Alice shrugged, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. But in a few minutes she was up again, commenting on everything from the rings to the vows to quality of silk in the best man's tie.

Needless to say, neither of them got much sleep that night.

The nitpicking continued in the days to come, taking up almost every second of their conversations. When Alice started it up again that Friday evening, as soon as she came home from the lab, Ryo sighed and tossed a small black box at her.

"What's this?" she asked after she fumbled to catch it. Alice crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed that he'd interrupted her rant.

"Open it," he said. With an exaggerated sigh, she did as he asked and found a huge solitaire diamond from Cartier on an elegant platinum band.

"Babe," Alice gushed as she slid the ring onto her third finger. Naturally, it was a perfect fit. "How are we not married already?" It really was an oversight. They had officially started dating during their third year at Tōtsuki and never stayed broken up for longer than forty-eight hours.

He shrugged. "Never seemed necessary."

"True."

"But if you hated that wedding so much, just plan your own."

"Oh, Ryo," she said with a wide smirk. "Why on earth would I plan my own wedding when I can get Erina and Hishoko to do it for me?"

* * *

Erina had been prepared for every aspect of the wedding. With steadfast assistance from Hisako, she had found the perfect asymmetrical wedding dress to symbolize her cousin's playful, avant-garde style. She had arranged and rearranged the seating chart so every Tōtsuki alum, extended family member, and pillar of the scientific community would be content with his or her placement. She had tasted cake after cake after goddamn cake until she found one that was beautiful and edgy enough for the occasion, but unsullied by the glorified plaster that was fondant frosting.

Erina had been ready for all of this and more, but her nerves of steel were all but melted down the moment _he_ checked into the hotel.

Despite the fact that she had promised herself she wouldn't, Erina had known that she was going to sleep with him the second he smiled at her in the lobby and said, "Yo, Nakiri." It had happened for the first time when they returned to Tōtsuki friendship and rapport camp as alumni. Then there was Isshiki-senpai's wedding, and the informal class reunion Alice had planned two years back. At this particular point, it seemed like it was their biological imperative to do it every time they happened to be on the same continent—which truly wasn't as often as one would think.

For years she had tried to convince herself that it was only physical, that she was only entertaining herself. But every time he left her in the morning to jet halfway around the world, a quiet sadness fell over her. Sometimes it took her weeks to snap out of it. So in the interest of not carrying on like a lovesick maiden for the better part of a month, she had decided to steer clear of him.

But while her eyes were still misty from the vows and the cutting of the cake and all the toasts, he'd asked her for one dance. And as it always seemed to, one dance led to one kiss. Then two. Then ten. And then, after the newlyweds left the reception to embark on their honeymoon, after Hisako disappeared and all their married friends decided to retire for the evening, Erina found herself up in his hotel room.

The next morning, the Nakiri heiress woke up to the sound of Souma's alarm blaring. The man in question, now one of the world's most renowned chefs, kept sleeping, completely unperturbed by the noise. Erina scowled, sorely tempted to press the snooze button and pretend she'd never heard it.

But that wouldn't be right.

"Yukihira," she said quietly, nudging him with her foot. The only response she received was a pronounced snore. Honestly, she should have known better. "Hey, Yukihira." She shook his shoulder gently. "Get up." When he still didn't stir, Erina took the only sensible course of action. She whacked him over the head with a pillow. Repeatedly.

He woke with a start. "What was all that for?"

"You're going to miss your flight to…" She paused. Paris? Prague? She could never keep track. "Wherever it is that you're going this time. Not that I particularly care."

"Rio," he said with a lazy smile before he rolled out of bed. "And thanks for waking me up."

"Whatever." Erina eyed her violet colored bridesmaid dress on the floor and wondered if she should leave first. It was his room, after all. "I've never been to Rio."

"Come with me, then," he called to her from the bathroom, where he was hellbent on expediting his usual primadonna-like morning routine.

"What?" Erina asked. She must have heard him wrong over the shower.

"Come to Rio," he repeated. "You'll like it."

Erina rolled her eyes. Would she like to go fuck off with him in Rio? Certainly. But she also had three restaurants, a hotel empire, and the finest culinary arts academy in Japan to preside over. "Even if I wanted to, you know I can't do something like that."

"What?"

"I mean I can't just drop everything and go on vacation."

"What about orientation?"

"Oh my…" She exhaled slowly. "I SAID I CAN'T GO!"

After a few more minutes, the water shut off. Souma emerged from the shower in just a towel, his hair dripping in a way that Erina had always found attractive. She nibbled her lower lip.

"So no Rio?" he asked her.

"I looked at my calendar," she said, pulling out her smartphone. "I could maybe get over there the week of the 17th if I move a few things around." Then he shot her a sheepish smile that told her it wasn't going to work.

"I'll be at a culinary festival in Auckland then. But I could be in Brazil again around the fourth of next month."

Erina sighed, rubbing her temples. "I would, but the Autumn Elections at Tōtsuki are starting around then. I have to be there."

"Right, right," he said. "Well, what if—"

"Just forget it," she said, stepping back into her gown. They always did this, made plans that were destined to fall through. The disappointment was exhausting; she didn't have time for it. "It's not like I need someone like you to take me places. I have a private jet." Then, tired of fumbling with the back of her dress, she turned to him. "Zip this thing up for me."

"Sure." And after he did this, his lips landed on her right shoulder and moved slowly up the curve of her neck. Erina's eyes drew closed and her head tilted to the left.

"Are you sure you want to start this, Yukihira?" she asked. "You're going to miss your flight."

"You have a private jet," he said, smirking. And then he kissed her once, twice, a hundred times, and the zipper slid down again.

She would tell him, in fifteen minutes or so, that she hadn't brought the jet with her.

* * *

About an hour later, after she had returned to her room and showered, Erina padded down the hallway to Hisako's room. Steadfastly pursuing her doctorate in nutrition while running two restaurants and acting as a culinary consultant for the World Health Organization, she was the perfect person to give Erina the don't-let-a-man-distract-you pep talk she needed. She knocked three times, and after a great deal of shuffling around inside the room, her friend opened the door just a crack.

"Oh, Erina-sama," she said, smoothing down her sleep-matted hair. "How are you this morning?"

"Hisako, I screwed up." Erina lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushed. "Twice. Even after I decided I was done with him."

"With Yukihira-kun?" she asked. When Erina nodded, Hisako's expression seemed to morph into one of relief. That was strange. "Well, don't be too hard on yourself. These things happen to all of us."

"Yes! But I don't know how it keeps happening. He's always so infuriating!"

"I thought you were good with his cooking now," Hisako said, lowering her voice and glancing back into her room.

"I mean, I suppose he's not quite a second rate chef," she admitted, her arms crossed over her chest. "Still not on my level, but passable, I guess."

"Then what's—"

"I don't know. It's just annoying when someone can't stay put for more than five minutes."

"Erina-sama." Hisako flashed her a knowing smile. "Have you ever tried telling him that?"

"A-absolutely not!" Erina gave her hair a strong flip, as though she needed to bat the suggestion away from her. "I don't need him getting the wrong impression."

"And that would be?" Hisako asked.

"Thinking that I want him around or something."

"But isn't that—"

"Anyway, why don't you get dressed and then we can have brunch in that little restaurant down in the lobby."

"Well," Hisako said timidly. "About that…"

And then it dawned on Erina that she was still standing in the doorway. The only time Hisako didn't invite her in and offer her tea right away was when…

"Hayama's in there, isn't he?" Erina asked, her voice stern. Hisako could only look down in response. Erina shook her head. Once again, she had lost the bet to Alice. "Hisako, we've talked about this. Long distance does not work, and you cannot be casual with someone you've been dating on and off since high school."

"I know, you're completely right, but it's different this time."

Erina raised an incredulous eyebrow. "How so?"

"He's moving back to Tokyo."

"Oh." Well, that _was_ different.

Then Erina really looked at her friend, at the hopeful glint in her eyes, and started to think that it might just work out between them. And if he broke her heart again, she could always use all her influence and resources to ruin his career, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that. She clasped Hisako's hands. "Have fun," she said. "And no kids until you finish your dissertation!"

* * *

The next time all the friends were gathered was for Megumi and Takumi's wedding seven months later. Erina found Souma sitting at the bar with a whiskey on the rocks, and for the first time since they met, she approached him first. Or rather, she sat next to him, ordered a classic martini, and glowered in his general direction until he looked at her.

"Nakiri," he greeted.

"If you didn't come here to object, you have no right to mope around," she said sternly. After they graduated from Tōtsuki, Souma and Megumi had dated for a couple of years and traveled the world together. They had won the 'best couple' superlative in their high school yearbook, much to Alice's consternation, and many speculated that if Doujima-san hadn't suddenly offered her the position to head the European division of the Tōtsuki Resorts empire, they'd be making their second or third trip around the globe.

"Who's moping?" he asked her with a cheeky grin. "They're happy."

Erina eyed him while she sipped her drink. "Are you?"

"It's not like you to get so philosophical, Nakiri," he said.

"Only a dullard would consider such a simple question philosophical." Erina finished her martini in one gulp and ordered another. As she drummed her freshly manicured nails on the table, she wondered if he was still in love with Megumi, and if it would matter to Megumi if he was, and why she kept asking herself questions she really didn't want to know the answers to.

Souma only shrugged. "You always did say I was stupid."

"For a variety of reasons." She tried to hide her smile behind the rim of her martini glass. "Where are you headed after this?"

"Back to New York," he said. That was where his 'permanent' residence and flagship restaurant were located, though he probably spent fewer than three months there each year.

"Will you still be there a week from now?" she asked. "I have an interview with _Food & Wine_ so…"

"I'll take you to brunch."

Erina gave a little snorting laugh, shaking her head. It wasn't much, she knew, but it was the first time their schedules had ever lined up, and the sentimental, shoujo manga reading side of her decided to see it as a sign.

"Let's hope your tastes have evolved in the years since we graduated."

 **Author's Notes:** This fic has been on Tumblr for a while, but I decided to compile the chapters here to make the story a bit more reader friendly. Thanks for reading, everyone, and have a great weekend!


	2. Business Casual

Erina had always loved New York. She loved Saks Fifth Avenue and crosstown taxi rides. She loved the Met and the Mets—she cared very little for baseball, but Hisako had dated a Mets shortstop once—Broadway shows and elaborate dance performances at Lincoln Center. She loved that everyone within the five boroughs seemed to have a decent palate, and all the restaurants her interviewees and co-judges brought her to met her standards.

Yes, she had always loved New York, so it was natural for her to spend her vacation time there. Falling asleep and waking up next to him in his trendy—if not a bit too minimalist for her tastes—Brooklyn Heights apartment was just an added benefit.

A little past four in the morning, after she was roused by the malevolent force that was jet lag, Erina sat up. With a yawn, she reflexively reached for the iPad she kept under her pillow and checked her schedule. She smiled when she saw that she had absolutely nothing planned (except a massage at a spa in TriBeCa) until the following Tuesday. As she closed the iPad case, Erina noticed that the other side of the bed was devoid of any red haired chefs, and the cool feeling of the sheets beneath her finger suggested that there hadn't been for quite some time. Finding this suspect, she decided to investigate.

After a very short walk to the living room—the concept of small apartments was still somewhat new to her—Erina found him in the middle of a long distance phone call. It was someone from his Paris restaurant from the sound of it, but it was still way too early in the morning for her to recall her high school French lessons.

When he got off the phone, he grinned at her, though his eyes were dull and tired. "Mornin' Nakiri."

"Morning?" Erina scoffed, taking a seat on the arm of the couch even though there was ample cushion available. "It's the middle of the night."

"It's 10:00 am in Paris," he explained.

"Your subordinates should run on your time," she said, "not the other way around."

Souma shook his head, laughing a bit at the resurgence of her Machiavellian streak. "It's fine," he said. "It's not like I stay in one time zone for more than a month at a time."

Erina rolled her eyes at this. He had always pushed himself too hard for the sake of other people—herself included. "You've always been too accommodating, even back when we were in school. That's why people take advantage of you."

"I wouldn't say that's—"

"That's exactly how it is," she said. Before Souma could respond, his work cell started ringing again. He glanced down at the caller ID.

"Sorry." He smiled at her. "It's Tokyo. It'll probably take a while, so you might want to go back to bed."

"Mhmm." She got off the arm of the couch, but instead of going back to the bedroom, she snatched the phone out of Souma's hand. "Hello," she said briskly. "This is Nakiri Erina."

"Nakiri, what are you doing?" Souma asked, reaching for the phone. Erina swatted his hand away, ignoring him.

"Yes, _the_ Nakiri Erina," she said to the employee on the phone. "Are you aware that it is four in the damn morning in New York?" She paused, listening to the sous chef's flustered response. "Then why would you think it's appropriate to call your employer at this hour? How is that professional behavior?" She listened again, rolling her eyes. "Well, I don't care what Chef Yukihira said; he was lying. If you value your career, try again at a decent hour. Oh, and do pass the message along to your people in Paris and Sydney." Erina smiled as the wholehearted apology started flowing out. "Well, now that that's settled, you have a good day."

When Erina ended the call and handed the phone back to Souma, he shook his head at her. "Was all that really necessary, Nakiri?"

"Entirely." She'd realized years ago, long before they initiated their pseudo-romantic relationship, that they were counterparts—that kindness like his could only exist in this world with a measure of harshness behind it, a strict foundation. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then on the neck. "Come back to bed."

He sighed. "I still have work to do."

"Delegate." She gave her hair a nonchalant flip. "You're no good to anyone this tired." Erina smirked. "Or at all, to be completely honest."

"Love you too, Nakiri." Unfazed as usual by her quips, Souma went to retrieve a bottle of Bordeaux and two glasses.

Erina tried her best to keep her expression placid while he poured the wine and then led her back into the bedroom. Had he really just been teasing her, or did he finally figure out that her pettiness was an intricate sleight of hand meant to distract from how much she cared about him? On second thought, she was sure that he was far too dense to notice.

"What's that look on your face?" he asked, and Erina struggled not to roll her eyes. So he noticed _that_?

"I'm just thinking," she said.

"About?"

"Business," Erina explained. "How many Michelin stars are you at now?" she asked, though she already knew the answer—two in Paris, two in New York, one in Sydney, one in Tokyo.

"Why do you ask?"

"No one in our graduating class has managed to earn three yet," she explained as she took a seat on the bed, sipped the wine.

"That's what Hayama's after," Souma said. "He just moved back to Tokyo to open up a new restaurant."

"And if you want to beat him to it, you have to overhaul the menu at one of your locations…or open a new one."

Souma glanced at her, noting the mischievous look on her face. They had joked, very abstractly, about collaborating since they were first and second seats on the Elite Ten Council, but all the talk had never come to fruition. They would have probably strangled each other if they tried it back then, anyway. "When and where?"

"Let's open a year from today," she decided, and then walked up the world map pinned to the wall. "In San Francisco."

Souma nodded his head, thinking. "How about L.A?"

Erina scoffed. "San Francisco or I walk," she said. "But you can name it as long as you don't try to call it Restaurant Yukihira."

"But Shinomiya-senpai—"

"Just because Shinomiya insists on calling all his restaurants the same thing doesn't mean it's okay. If we're going for three stars, we need something with impact."

Souma took her face in his hands and kissed her. "Yes, your majesty."

"I'm glad we're clear," she said. "Now shut up and turn the lights off." And when he got into bed with her and whispered a name against the shell of her ear, Erina nodded, grinned, and knew that they'd give each other everything they wanted—that is, if they ever figured out what it was.


	3. The Opposite of Casual

It had been late when Erina received the call.

She and Souma had been sitting on the hardwood floor of the empty space that would become their San Francisco restaurant, taking swigs from a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and arguing over paint swatches.

 _Cool colors, elegance, royal purple, blue blood._

 _No, warm colors, energy, crimson and gold._

He had been leaving for Paris in the morning to see to his affairs and kept trying to convince her come with him. He said he would miss her; that's when she knew he had to be drunk. Because when had missing her ever stopped him from leaving at the drop of a hat? When they gotten so bad that they couldn't spend a measly two weeks apart?

She refused his offer because she _had_ to stay in California if they were to keep to the schedule and open Canvas in seven weeks. She had been losing her resolve with each sip of whiskey that burned down her throat and each kiss he left at the base of her neck.

A little before midnight, she had sighed and said, "Fine, but I'm only staying for a few days. You're so lucky I've been craving Shino's." She'd picked up her phone to book a ticket just as it started ringing.

"Alice?" he asked with a knowing smile. It was a well known fact that the Nakiri cousins rarely went a day without talking.

"No, Chef Doujima," she replied, perplexed. The head of the tourism department seldom called her at all, and always stuck to business hours (in _her_ timezone, mind you) when he did. "I must've missed a deadline or something." She shrugged, then answered. "Hello?"

 _"Erina-san,"_ the man said with a weary sigh. " _I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour."_

"It's no problem. I'm still awake. Is there something I should attend to?"

"So it's no problem when _you_ take business calls after hours," Souma teased. She rolled her eyes, shushed him.

 _"It's about your grandfather,"_ Doujima explained. _"We were in the middle of a meeting when he collapsed. A heart attack."_

"What?" The room had started spinning at that point, all the alcohol hitting her at once. Ever since she was a child her grandfather had been absurdly healthy, in better shape than most thirty-somethings when he was well into his eighties, running and hiking and swimming whenever his schedule allowed. Just two months ago, Alice had sent her a video of him doing one-handed push-ups with Kurokiba. "No, that can't be right."

 _"We were quite surprised as well, but..."_

She could scarcely hear him anymore. She was sobbing, or hyperventilating, maybe both, and it felt like the air in the room was growing ever thinner, like she was stranded at the summit of some far off cliff. She could feel Souma rubbing her back while he asked her the questions, the are-you-okays and what's-wrongs. Erina knew she was probably scaring him because he never saw her cry before, she had seen to that, but she couldn't bring herself to answer.

"I...is he...I mean, did he..." She prayed Doujima wouldn't make her say it out loud.

 _"Senzaemon-dono is still alive. We're at the hospital, but they haven't disclosed much information. They would prefer to speak with a blood relative. Your uncle Soe and his family are on their way from Denmark, but-"_

"I...I understand," she said, grasping for some of her usual composure. "I'm on my way. Thank you for letting me know, Doujima-san."

After she hung up the phone Erina buried her face in Souma's chest, letting the black cotton of his shirt absorb the last of her tears. She would give herself sixty seconds, no more, because she was still the demon lord of food's granddaughter and heir. No matter what happened in the next few hours, she would have to be strong for Alice, for Auntie Leonora and Uncle Soe, for the Nakiri Group and the Tōtsuki network, students and alumni alike. She would leave her weakness on the worn out Restaurant Yukihira logo where it could do no harm.

When her minute was up, she wiped her eyes and exhaled deeply. "I can't come to Paris," she finally said, her voice level. "Not this time."

It was time to go home.

* * *

They reached Tokyo after an eleven hour red-eye flight that Souma had more or less smooth-talked their way onto. They flew coach, which made Erina miserable in addition to her being jet-lagged, mildly hungover, and terrified that her grandfather had died hours ago and she didn't know because, in her words, _humanity had advanced enough to put a man on the moon but still couldn't find a way to give her cell service on a goddamn plane._

"Do you want to get an Airbnb first?" Souma asked her once they cleared customs. He was holding both of their carry-ons while skimming through flats near the hospital on his phone. "You should probably lie down for a bit." He had bought her some sleeping pills before they got on the plane, but she was never out for more than an hour and always woke with fresh tears on her face.

"I'll live," she dismissed, her right eye starting to twitch as her iPhone, with newly restored cellular service, vibrated spasmodically in her hand. Her schedule, now sixteen hours behind, demanded a kind of attention that she simply did not have at the moment. She stared blankly at the events on her iCloud calendar—tastings, ingredient orders, interviews, a doctor's appointment—things that had seemed so important less than a day ago. Then she deleted all of them.

"And we should get some food in you."

Naturally Erina couldn't defile her god tongue with the tasteless refuse that was airline food, and airline food in _coach_ at that. She did feel weak, and more than a little bit dizzy. On a normal day his suggestions would have seemed rational, even preferable, but she was not in the mood for logic.

"Later."

"Nakiri-"

" _I am going to see my grandfather,_ " she snapped, and instantly regretted it. He had flipped his schedule upside down just to be there for her, and she'd been bratty and ungrateful the entire time. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just-"

"Don't sweat it." He kissed her forehead, stunning her enough to disrupt her train of thought; Yukihira Souma had _never_ been one for public displays of affection, and neither had she. How far they had come from hooking up at their friends' weddings. "I'll get us a cab."

"Make it an Uber," she said as they made their way to the terminal's exit, and wondered if it sounded like 'I love you.'

* * *

In the backseat of the cab, Erina had attempted to pull herself together. She brushed her hair, wrapping it into a neat bun, and dabbed concealer under her eyes. So by the time they reached the hospital, she looked at least something like her usual self.

The rest of the Nakiri clan had already assembled in the waiting room. Her uncle was flagging down a passing nurse, one who likely had nothing to do with her grandfather's case, for questioning. Alice was sandwiched between her mother and her husband, sniffling, her eyes red and swollen. Auntie Leonora more than had her hands full between trying to make Alice eat some stale looking chips and telling Soe to stop harassing the hospital staff.

The first person to notice their arrival was actually Chef Doujima, who had kept a respectful distance from the family.

"Nakiri-san, Yukihira-kun," he greeted. "Despite the circumstances, I'm pleased to see both of you well."

"Why so formal, senpai?" Souma asked, all good-natured charisma as usual. "You seen my pops lately?"

"I ran into him in Spain a few months ago," he replied.

"That's more than I can say," Souma said, and Erina couldn't help but crack a smile. Even his own son couldn't top Jouichirou's vanishing act.

"How's my grandfather?" Erina asked after a pause. "Have they said anything?"

"Two hours ago one of the doctors came out to say his condition was improving, but they haven't let anyone see him yet."

"That's a relief," she said, and was about to ask a follow up question when Alice fell upon them.

"Erina," she called, waving. "What are you doing?"

"What?"

"You look like hell warmed over. Trying to hide those duffel bags under your eyes with drugstore concealer. Honestly." She shook her head, knowing she'd taught her better. "I bet you came straight here from the airport."

"You're one to talk, Alice," Erina replied. "You've probably been sitting right there since you got in from Denmark. How about you go find something to eat that didn't come out of a vending machine?"

"Me? I bet you didn't even eat anything on the plane because you're so spoiled."

"I'm spoiled? You don't even fly commercial."

"You're such a hypocrite, Erina! How is only flying charter any different from only flying first class? Just go get some rest, already."

"I'll go when you do."

At this point, Souma turned to Ryo who had quietly followed his wife over. "Do they always have to do this?"

"Every single time," the dark haired chef replied.

"Yukihira," Alice said, suddenly shifting her gaze his way. "You're slacking. Hishoko would have had a hotel booked already. Go take her somewhere to lie down."

"Uh...I tried," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"So you're gonna take her side?" Erina asked.

"What?" He glanced from Erina to Alice and back again. "How did I become part of this?"

"I told you not to get involved," Ryo said.

Just then, Nakiri Soe approached the group. "I was finally able to track down the right doctor."

"As expected of papa," Alice said proudly.

Soe adjusted his glasses, clearly moved by his daughter's praise. "At any rate, we won't be able to see father for another two or three hours. You two should take a break. I'll call right away if anything changes."

Alice glanced at her father for a long while and then sighed. "I'm honestly fine, but I suppose I'll go for Erina's sake."

"For my sake?"

"Yes, for your sake."

The sounds of their argument continued all the way down the elevator shaft.

* * *

"Who knew Mimasaka-kun had a restaurant around here," Erina said as they went through the sleek chrome doors.

"Everyone but you," Alice replied.

"Welcome to Silhouette," the greeter said. "Would you prefer to be seated at the bar or a table."

"Bar," Erina said. "We may need to leave in a rush."

"Understood." The young girl led them to their seats with a pleasant smile.

When the bartender asked for their drink orders, Erina only briefly hesitated before ordering a classic martini with two olives. "And you want a vodka cranberry, right?" she asked her cousin.

"Just sparkling with lemon for me," Alice replied with a sigh. Erina glanced at her, surprised. Alice almost never passed up her go-to drink. She blinked once, twice.

"Alice...are you-"

"Six weeks now," she said with a sly nod, smirking around the rim of her glass. "Ryo thinks he's getting a daughter, but it's a boy. I can feel it."

"Congratulations!" Erina cried. "You...you're going to be somebody's mom." It was a strange thought, really, considering how childish her cousin could be.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Erina," Alice said as their appetizers arrived. "But yeah, I guess I am."

"Are you excited?"

Alice shrugged. "Excited, a little terrified, wondering how all this is going to work with the restaurants and the research facilities. But Erina, I've been thinking lately."

"About?" She didn't like the sound of her cousin's voice, her playful lilt replaced with a more serious tone.

"I wasn't supposed to say anything, but I was talking to Hayama the other day."

Oh yeah. Erina kept forgetting that they were friends. "And?"

"He asked me for Hishoko's ring size," she said.

"He's gonna propose?" Erina asked, her chest welling with happiness for Hisako, and for Alice, but there was a more unsavory feeling encroaching on her bliss. Not jealousy, never that, but perhaps a twinge of...panic.

"He's gonna ask her later this month," Alice said. "And now that Dr. Arato is officially a thing, it won't be long before they end up with a pink haired brat or two."

"That's..." She sighed, the feeling of panic slowly intensifying. "That is true. In fact, I'm surprised they don't have a kid together already. But what's your point?"

"Do you want kids, Erina? Like in general?"

Erina shrugged. "Sure."

"And if you were married, or in some kind of long term relationship, you might want them sooner rather than later, right?"

"Where are you going with this, Alice?" Erina asked. She was too tired to play mind games.

"Listen, I love Yukihira as much as the next person, and I've always rooted for you two to be together, but maybe Megumi left him for a reason."

"Do I look like Tadokoro-san to you?"

"It's Aldini-san now," Alice said with a pointed look. "All I'm saying is if you can't have the life you want with him, maybe it's time to start seeing someone else."

"Alice, I appreciate your concern, but I am not having this conversation with you-"

"Good. Have it with him, preferably before you wake up in ten years wondering how you're still a friend with benefits," she instructed, just as her phone started vibrating. "We should get back to the hospital."

Erina sighed and paid the bill before her cousin could protest. "Let's get going."

* * *

Erina sat with her grandfather for a long while, hours after Alice and her side of the family had gone home. It had been agreed that after he left the hospital, he would spend a few months with them in Denmark while he recovered. Doujima Gin would take over as headmaster of the academy, and Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini, who had spent years as his second in command, would become head of the Tōtsuki tourism department.

Erina had stayed at her grandfather's side, writing the contracts, making the calls, keeping her back straight and her voice steady despite the fact that she had never seen him so weak.

After the business had been settled, they talked a bit. He told Erina how much she reminded him of her mother, the daughter who had been taken from him too soon. He had rarely talked about it when Erina was a child. Too painful, she supposed. But mostly they just sat, each wholly content and comfortable in the other's presence.

"Erina," he said to her as it neared midnight. Visiting hours had ended long ago, but the Nakiri family was hardly bound by normal protocol. "Is that boy still out there?"

"Yes," she sighed. "I told him already that he could leave."

She had told him to go to the Airbnb, back to California, off to Paris, let him know in no uncertain terms that she did not expect him to wait for her. But there he continued to sit in the waiting room, reading yesterday's paper and chugging what had to be his tenth or twelfth cup of coffee. Idiot.

"Send him in here," the former headmaster said. "There's something I'd like to say to him."

Only the gods knew what that meant.


	4. A Casual Reminder

By the extent to which her headache had lessened, Erina could only surmise that she had overslept. She had no idea how that could have happened when she set two alarms on her phone and three on her tablet the night before—unless someone had turned them off, that is. And if _someone_ had done that, _someone_ would have no choice but to face the full force of her wrath.

After she showered and moisturized and padded out into the living room of the Airbnb in her bathrobe, Erina saw _someone_ in the kitchen taking some sort of souffle out of the oven.

"Mornin' Nakiri," he said, grinning at her. "How're you feeling?"

"You turned off my alarms!" She tried in vain to hold onto the rage that was suddenly eluding her.

"You slept through the first two," he pointed out with a shrug. "Besides, you were snoring like a damn grizzly bear, so I figured you were pretty tired."

Erina blanched. _She hadn't_...had she?

"I...well, that's just impossible. I don't snore. And at any rate, I was supposed to have three meetings this morning."

"Pushed back," he explained. "Doujima's cool with it, and Tadokoro's train from Tōhoku got delayed anyway."

Erina decided that it was entirely too early in the morning for her to read into the fact that he still called his married ex-girlfriend by her maiden name. "Oh...When is the first meeting."

"In an hour and a half."

Erina finally allowed herself to glance over at the souffle, which upon closer inspection looked perfectly browned at the top and smelled delicious. "Asiago cheese and sun-dried tomatoes?"

He nodded once. "You want coffee or tea?"

"Coffee." She took a seat at the kitchen table and crossed one leg over the other. "Like the whole pot."

"I gotchu," he said, giving her shoulder a light squeeze on his way back to the french press.

As she anticipated the sensation of piping hot black coffee gracing her god tongue, a thought occurred to Erina. With all the chaos that had ensued since their unexpected return to Tokyo, when the hell had he found the time to go grocery shopping? And to bake her a breakfast souffle? _And_ to reschedule all of her meetings?

And then, for reasons she couldn't quite identify, Erina got up and followed him and loosened the sash on her robe. "You said an hour and a half?"

"Yeah, did you want more ti-" When he turned around, Erina tilted her head upward and pressed her lips against his. She smirked into the kiss when his fingers slid beneath her robe, between her legs.

Hopefully they'd still have some time for breakfast after.

* * *

Erina shook her head as her taxi pulled up in front of the Tōtsuki Imperial Hotel in the city center. She was _still_ running late, though she couldn't be mad about the reason. She climbed the front steps two by two, an impressive feat indeed in her four inch heels, and all but dove for the elevator.

The first meeting would be with the board members of the tourism department, and she could only imagine those hardened businessmen tearing into sweet little Megumi like vultures on a carcass.

However, after she got out on the fourteenth floor and speed-walked down the hall, Erina heard nothing but laughter wafting out of the conference room. Inside Doujima Gin nodded proudly as his protegee enticed the board members with her stories and homemade snacks.

Discreetly, Erina went over to Doujima and asked what was going on.

"We were discussing the possibility of opening a hotel in Midtown East," he explained. "It seems Mrs. Aldini has spent some time living in New York."

"So you really went two months without any furniture?" a balding man asked Megumi.

She nodded, chuckling a bit at the memory. "You see, we had just graduated from Tōtsuki's high school, so we had gotten accustomed to state of the art facilities. We were a little disappointed by the kitchen in our first apartment out in Queens, so..."

"So you blew all your savings on an IKEA dream kitchen!" The older man gave a full-bellied laugh. "Ah, to be young and in love. Makes me nostalgic."

"Aldini-san, if you don't mind me asking, wherever did you sleep?" another one of them asked.

"We had a mattress on the floor," she explained. "It was pretty rough, so my boyfriend at the time became a contestant on Chopped. He won and we used the prize money to furnish the apartment."

That garnered another round of laughter from everyone in the room. Erina _had_ always wondered what made him go on that show, but still a wave of irritation coursed through her.

"Perhaps we should get back to business," she said with an authoritative edge to her voice.

They did, but honestly it didn't help much.

It seemed that Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini had a personal anecdote about literally every city to which they were considering expanding their tourism empire. She was personable, highly skilled, ridiculously well-traveled; it was what made her the perfect woman for the job. But the fact that _he_ featured so prominently in so many of her stories was gradually driving Erina up a wall.

They had gone to carnival in Trinidad, watched the northern lights in Alaska, hiked through the Andes mountains—cooking and eating and falling in love with the world all the while. Even though the stories only came in the form of offhanded comments, Erina knew them both well enough to piece the story together—everything but the ending. For the life of her, she couldn't fathom how they had ever broken up.

By the end of her last meeting, Nakiri Erina was _finished._ With an exhausted sigh, she traded her heels for a pair of flip-flops and made her way over to the hotel's bar. There she found none other than Takumi Aldini nursing an old fashioned.

"It's good to see you, Nakiri-san," he said when he spotted her.

"Likewise." She barely had the chance to sit before bartender placed a martini in front of her. Ahh, the perks of being heir to the Tōtsuki network. "How has life been treating you?"

"Can't complain." He ran a hand through his blond hair.

Erina gave a little laugh. That was quite literal. The Italian chef was almost incapable of complaining unless you pried it out of him. "What happened?"

"Grandpa Tadokoro has been having problems with his memory lately," he explained. "We've been trying to help out, but every time I see him, he's just like...'Souma, you got shorter. Souma, why'd you go and dye your hair? Megumi, when are you and Souma gonna give me some great-grandkids?"

Erina whistled. And she thought _she_ had problems. "Takumi, you're a saint."

"I'm not," he said. "I just got lucky. To think I only have the life I'm living now because of a bad pregnancy test."

 _WHAT?_

Erina's head turned around so fast, she was surprised she didn't end up with whiplash. "A pregnancy test? Was-"

" _M-mi spiace,_ Nakiri-san." Takumi suddenly looked like he had just lost his star ingredient minutes before his dish had to be completed. "I shouldn't have said anything. I just assumed you already knew since you two have been living common law for so long."

Hmm...common law. Was that what they were doing? She had never been particularly fond of anything that could be categorized as common...well, except Yukihira.

As Erina contemplated this, Megumi walked into the bar, all golden eyes and gentle smiles, beaming when she spotted them. The bartender slid a tequila sunrise over to her as soon as she arrived.

After giving her husband a quick peck on the lips, she pulled Erina into a hug. "Nakiri-san! How's everything? Are you alright? I'm sorry we didn't get to talk properly before."

"I'm fine," she replied, feeling terrible for ever resenting her. "Thanks for getting here on such short notice."

"No problem at all. And I'm sorry the train got delayed. I know you wanted to start the meeting at nine."

"No, no. You got here before me, anyway!" she said. "Besides, that idiot Yukihira turned off my alarms, so I didn't wake up until after ten."

Megumi laughed. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him."

"I came close."

"No one would blame you," Takumi joked.

The three chatted for another half hour or so before Erina had a driver pick her up in front of the hotel.

When she got back to her vacation rental—as much as she loved her family's hotels, she could only go so many days without a functioning kitchen—Souma was emailing the contractor for their SF restaurant space.

"'Sup Nakiri?"

"I'm starting to question why I ever bought these heels."

"Didn't you say you like to intimidate people by towering over them in your crazy shoes?"

Erina tapped her chin. "I told you that?" Because there was no way she told him that.

"I think you were drunk."

"Had to be." That was the only way she'd admit something like that to anyone other than Hisako. She smirked, leaning down to read the email thread over his shoulder. "We should go back soon. Alice and the others are already back in Denmark."

"Figured you'd say that." Souma switch tabs to reveal that he'd already booked their first class— _thank goodness_ —tickets back to California.

Erina rolled her eyes. Who said he was allowed to know her so well? More and more each day, it seemed as though the chef of the commons had her down to a science.

"When we get back, we're still painting the walls blue," she said.

"Come on, Nakiri. The red looked so much better."

"I already told you, your aesthetic sense is way off!"

She knew they would argue about it into the wee hours of the morning, even though she was fairly sure she'd let him have his way this time.


	5. False Positives (A Committed Interlude)

Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini sat patiently on the examination table, the cold wax paper shifting beneath her as she reached for her phone to check her work email. She would have to attend yet another cocktail party with the shareholders that coming Saturday night, and once again she would call ahead and ask the bartenders to replace all her tequila sunrises with very convincing mocktails.

You see, over the past few weeks she had taken not one, not two, but three home pregnancy tests, and all of them had given her the same result.

But she had to be certain before she said anything. The last time she had been wrong about something like this, her entire world had collapsed upon itself and she would not—she could not—go through something like that again.

Between email replies, her phone vibrated. Takumi had texted her asking if she wanted to have lunch together. Mimasaka Subaru had recently opened up a restaurant nearby that he'd been meaning to try.

Megumi sighed, fishing for a way to reply without lying to him. Her mother had always said that dishonesty did to a marriage what hornworms did to a tomato patch. Then again, her mother was always quite opinionated on the topic of marriage for someone who had never been married.

Megumi shook her head vigorously, mentally admonishing herself. That was mean; she was better than that. But between her new job and her grandfather's dementia and her ever-present nausea, she felt herself growing more irritable by the day. Still, she had to stay positive. Always positive. That was the first rule of hospitality, and now she was the head of hospitality for one of the largest hotel franchises in the world.

But was she even qualified for the position?

What was Doujima-san even thinking when he chose her as his successor? There were tens of thousands of people with advanced with degrees in hospitality management and corporate communications who would have killed for this role. And who was she? A middling chef with a full passport?

Her eyes drew closed and she tried to focus on her breathing. Before she knew it, her palms were pressed together as though she were praying. She imagined a sting at the back of her hands, then warm lips pressed against her wrist, right at the pulse point. _He_ was the only one who always knew what to do when she was panicking.

"Aldini-san."

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her gynecologist's voice. She couldn't let herself go there.

"Your results were positive. Congratulations!"

Megumi offered the physician a smile, trying her best to match the older woman's enthusiasm. "A-are you sure?" she asked after clearing her throat.

"False positives are rare with this kind of test," the physician explained. "And the blood test you took three days ago confirms it. You are unquestionably pregnant."

"I see." She slid off the examination table, buttoning her tan blazer with shaking hands. She had been gone from the office for too long already. "Thank you."

"Would you like to schedule a sonogram at the front desk?"

 _S-sonagram? Already?_

Suddenly her head was spinning. "Perhaps another time," she said as she slung her purse over her shoulder. She thanked the doctor once more and shot a warm smile at the receptionist on her way out.

* * *

After she returned to her office, Megumi had thrown up in the ladies room twice between reports and conference calls. Whether it was her nerves or the morning sickness causing it, she really couldn't say, but despite her assistant's many protests, she stayed until the stack of documents on her desk had receded to a manageable level.

When she got home, Takumi was on Skype with Isami and Ikumi. Those two were out in California (though not the same part as Souma and Erina) working on the vineyard they had impulsively bought. Takumi definitely had some choice words for his twin after a short vacation in wine country quickly turned into their primary residence— _You couldn't have bought a vineyard in **Italy** , Isami?_—but things seemed to have worked themselves out.

Megumi came over to exchange a few pleasantries with the couple before excusing herself and retreating to the bedroom. A few minutes later, her husband came in after her.

"Another rough day?" he asked upon seeing that she had already gotten into her pajamas.

"Not too bad." She felt terrible for complaining at all when Nakiri-san had risen to the head of the organization literally overnight. Even Chef Doujima must have been struggling with the role of headmaster suddenly thrust upon him.

Takumi took a seat on the bed next to her. "When you didn't respond to my text earlier I thought you had to be swamped."

Megumi could hear her mother's warnings in the back of her mind. _Hornworms in a tomato patch._ She sighed. "I was at a doctor's appointment."

"For your stomach?"

Megumi nodded slowly, surprised yet unsurprised that he had noticed. Though he did little to intrude upon the private lives of others, Takumi paid attention to everything.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really," she admitted.

"You've been working too hard, _tesoro_." He kissed her right cheek. "Can I bring you anything? Some soup?"

She shook her head. " _Grazie_ , _caro_." She knew he loved it when she spoke Italian to him. "But I'm fine. I think I'm just going to take a nap."

She was going to tell him. Soon. Tonight. She just needed more time.

* * *

 _Megumi dreamed of Chile. She dreamed of mountains and glaciers and churrasco, of Santiago nights that lasted until morning and waking up at noon to kisses on her collarbone. Twenty-two tasted like Sauza and Souma and snogging at the edge of waterfalls._

 _They had been careless, terribly careless, in that heady way that only high school sweethearts who move in together can achieve. And then there was the faulty test, the trip back to Tokyo._

 _Twenty-nine hours in the air and they were getting married in the spring and buying a little house up the street from OG Restaurant Yukihira and naming their daughter Midori. It was a girl; they were sure._

 _And then she wasn't actually pregnant._

 _But the family life they had talked about was still the life she wanted_

 _...and he didn't_

 _And they were in love_

 _And they were over_

 _And none of it would have ever happened if not for that stupid test._

* * *

She woke up crying like she hadn't in years, but this time her tears weren't for Souma. They were for the husband who was at her side the minute he heard her sniffling.

"What's wrong, _tesoro mio_?" he asked as his arms wrapped around her. "Are you hurt somewhere?"

 _What if he didn't want this?_

When the words didn't come, she shook her head, rubbing her face into his shoulder.

"Megumi," he said softly. "You can tell me whatever's bothering you. You know that."

And then she gazed up into his blue eyes, tentatively at first, but then with indescribable love. She had to trust him. "T-Takumi," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "I...I'm pregnant."

A look of understanding crossed his refined features.

"And I know it's a bad time," she continued. "I just got this new job, and I know you were thinking about expanding your restaurant in New York and-"

" _Tesoro_." Takumi took her right hand in his and kissed her knuckles in a way that always made her melt. "We're having our first child. No matter what else is going on, that's amazing news."

"But your career-"

He kissed her again, this time on the lips, and before she knew left from right, Megumi was starting to lose herself in it. Loving Takumi was always like this. Slow, intentional, more heartbeat than 808. After they broke their embrace, he gazed at her.

"Megumi, nothing in this world is more important to me than our family," he told her. "I have nothing but respect for them, but Yukihira and Hayama can keep their money and their Michelin stars." He gently thumbed the residual tears away from her cheeks. "I'd choose coming home to you every night over that life a million times over."

"Takumi." She beamed at him, smiling so wide that her eyes started welling up again. This was why she adored him, why she had agreed to marry him after only dating for ten months. "We should fly to Tuscany next weekend to tell your parents in person."

"We'll stop in Tōhoku first," he said, even though he knew that they'd end up staying longer than they planned and her dementia-stricken grandfather would call him Souma.

And if their child ever asked her what love feels like, she would tell her it was this.


	6. A Taste of Commitment

Despite all that had happened over the past few weeks, Erina was more convinced than she had been in a long time that there was still some good left in the world.

She now had her own personalized letterhead and got to sign all her correspondences as Chairwoman Nakiri. The title of director just wasn't her style.

The Totsuki students, faculty, and staff had sent over 3,000 get well soon cards to her grandfather, and being the kind of man that he was, Nakiri Senzaemon had somehow responded to each of them individually.

She had helped Hisako pick out a gorgeous wedding dress, even though the date was still undecided. Their original plan to have a secret ceremony had kind of backfired after Alice went ahead and told everyone she knew.

Alice, now ten weeks pregnant and just beginning to show, had her first ultrasound a few days ago. Erina had followed the appointment religiously via Kurokiba's insanely famous Instagram; according to Alice, he was the second coming of Salt Bae. The baby was growing nicely and her little niece or nephew—second cousin just didn't sound as intimate—was due to arrive in January.

By the great powers of caffeine and compartmentalization, Erina's own baby, Canvas, was still set to open in less than a month. Although Yukihira had been on five different continents in the past two weeks, he still managed to get all the remote work done. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Honestly, if she could function on as little sleep as he did, Erina would run for prime minister.

A small, involuntary smile grew across her face as she heard a key turn in the door a few minutes later. Considering who they were and where they had started, it was nothing short of absurd that two weeks felt like such a long time.

Souma came in wearing an easy grin and bearing a couple of those food truck tacos Erina couldn't believe she liked as much as she did. "Sup, Nakiri?" he asked, handing her the food. "I can't believe this place is open so early. It's only like 7:30."

Erina shook her head at him, chuckling a little. The time zones had really fucked him up this time. "PM, Yukihira," she pointed out, more than content with her food.

"Right." He sighed, running a hand over the length of his face. "Forgot that was a thing."

Erina watched him sit next to her on the couch and reset all his schedule apps to Pacific Standard Time, surprised and mildly annoyed at the fact that they weren't going at each other yet. It has been four whole minutes already and she was wearing a damn g-string.

He glanced at her, bruise-like circles under his golden eyes. "Today's the 25th, right?"

"Twenty-seventh," she corrected. "Of June, in case you were wondering."

Erina had expected to draw some banter out of him with that line, and subsequently some much-needed _physical attention_ , but it seemed as though he barely heard her. After fighting down the urge to snap—she had never taken well to being ignored, especially by him—she noticed that he looked kind of feverish.

"You alright?" she asked, unconsciously leaning a bit closer to him.

"Yeah," he said, waving her off. "Just a headache."

Now, Erina's bullshit detector worked pretty similarly to her god tongue. Whenever it went off, it was like a splendid beachside holiday in her mind was interrupted by an unexpected storm. And according to her near infallible B.S. barometer, this had to be somewhere between a nor'easter and a fucking typhoon.

Wordlessly, she walked back to the bedroom and changed her underwear. She knew she wouldn't be getting what she wanted anytime soon. Then, dressed only leggings and a white camisole, she made her way to her tea cabinet in the kitchen.

At her restaurant franchise, Doctor's Orders, Hisako had always served a myriad of original tea blends with various health benefits. A year or so ago, Hayama had convinced her to start packaging her medicinal blends and selling them in stores (yes, friends, this was what happened when a Harvard PhD had a longstanding romance with a Cambridge MBA). And naturally, Erina had supported her best friend by buying a box of every blend in her collection.

She brewed a cup of the elder and ginger root cold-killer tea that the medicinal chef swore by, then stirred in some honey and brought the mug out to Yukihira, who seemed to be dozing off on the couch.

Erina rested her palm on his forehead, frowning a little when she felt how warm he was. And of course, because the universe was a cruel master, he had to open his eyes just then.

"Nakiri, what are you doing?"

Erina recoiled instinctively, and all of a sudden it was like they were third years at Tōtsuki again, her tripping over her feelings and him wholly oblivious to them.

"I um...just shut up and drink this!"

"Thanks, Nakiri." Souma smirked as he took the tea from her. "You know, it's been awhile since this side of you came out."

"Excuse me? What side? What's that supposed to mean, Yukihira?" Erina's voice rose an octave with each question.

"Nothing," he said, wincing at her sharp increase in volume. "It's cute. Stop yelling."

"Oh...sorry." Erina's eyes then shifted to the document he had been working on. The title was 'Your Brain on Arato.' She smirked a little. If nothing else, his toast would be interesting.

She never had the heart to tell him that the main reason he had been chosen as the best man over Kurokiba was that she was definitively the maid of honor, and in Hisako's words, they were kind of a package deal at this point. She had been told that Hayama's exact words on the matter were, 'They're both alright, I guess.'

"Maybe don't work on that while you're half-delirious," she suggested. "You're bad enough with speeches on a normal day."

"That's not true," he countered. "The entrance ceremony back in high school went pretty well."

Erina felt her right eye starting to twitch a little bit. "If you'd make that argument, you must be even more out of it than I thought," she said. "But seriously, you should lie down or something. If you get any sicker than this, the opening schedule will probably get messed up."

At this, Souma gave her a look that was half teasing and half confused. "You make a good point," he admitted before taking her advice and lying down...on the couch...with his head in her lap.

"Hey, that's not what I..." She sighed. "Whatever." On some subterranean level of her consciousness, Erina knew taking care of her was at least half the reason he was this exhausted. She guessed it wouldn't kill her to be his pillow for a little while.

Then, before Erina could fully process what she was doing, her traitorous fingers were running through his red hair. Her eyes turned skyward as she willed the universe to grant her strength and restraint. What was happening to her?

They stayed in that position for a few hours, Erina getting done whatever she could with his stupid red head pinning her down—mostly nibbling on her tacos and texting Hisako about the wedding.

Sometime during the third episode of _Platinum Weddings_ she'd downloaded on her phone—strictly for research purposes, of course—she noticed that Souma's fever had spiked again. After trying unsuccessfully to free her thighs without waking him, Erina shook his shoulder lightly.

"Yukihira," she said, poking his side when he still didn't budge. On any other day she would have just whacked him with one of the couch cushions. "Get off me so I can bring you some aspirin," she said when he finally opened his eyes.

"When's the last time you ate something?" Erina asked, as she tried to rub the pins and needles out of her left leg, which had fallen asleep at one point.

"On the plane, probably," he replied, his voice hoarser than she remembered it being.

Erina stared at him incredulously. "So you brought food for me but not for yourself?"

He shrugged. "Wasn't hungry."

"Wha...then why did you even go over there?"

"That's how this girlfriend shit works, right?"

Erina just blinked for a moment, sure that her brain must've short-circuited. Did he just say...

She shook her head. He was burning up; he probably wouldn't even remember it come morning. Overtaken by a rare burst of affection, Erina pressed a kiss against his forehead.

"I'll make you something." And while she did, she tested the word on her tongue—this tentative answer to the question life had been asking her for years now. She had to admit, she didn't quite mind the taste of it.

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading, everyone!


	7. Committed to Closure

It was five o'clock in the morning—Pacific Standard Time, mind you—but Souma's body still believed it was in Tokyo...or Sydney. As did his phone, apparently, since the Polar Star group chat had been on fire for the past three hours.

He squinted as he skimmed through the accumulated messages. They were all about Tadokoro's baby shower registry, save for a few modest inquiries about Yoshino's new Food Network show or Marui's master's thesis.

Souma had learned, through months trial and error, to put all his devices on silent before bed for Nakiri's sake. Although she could sleep through fucking Armageddon, the precocious ping of Apple Messenger notifications never failed to jolt her awake.

As he watched her sleeping on the right side of the bed—the side he always claimed before they started cohabitating (kind of)—he knew gramps had been right back in Tokyo.

 _It would not be wise to go on in this way._

Back when they started fooling around, Souma knew he had been one of two or three guys Nakiri had on rotation, and he had been too hung up on Tadokoro to think too seriously about what they were doing. But somewhere along the road, something had shifted.

The next set of messages flashed across his screen, and before he could turn to move the obtrusive blue-white light away from Nakiri, she started in her sleep. Her nose scrunched up and then she stretched, the black Restaurant Yukihira shirt she decided to sleep in that night rising to reveal part of her stomach. For a moment, Souma thought she would just roll over and all would be well, but then her sharp lilac gaze was fixed on him.

"Yukihira," she groaned, rubbing at her eyes. "What are you-"

"Shh. Go back to sleep, Nakiri."

"You go back to sleep," she murmured, and then rolled over, her face buried in the pillows once again.

Souma smirked. She was surprisingly reasonable when she was only half awake.

Knowing that sleep would evade him for the rest of the night, he decided that now was as good a night as any to get the thing done. He dressed as quietly as he could and took the box with the ring out of the corner of his knife case it had occupied for the past five years or so.

The walk from the apartment to the little pawn shop in the Mission District was quiet. He heard nothing but the voices of all the friends, mentors, and rivals who tried to give him often unsolicited, and universally unhelpful advice.

They all meant well, he knew—Kurokiba telling him to just do whatever she wanted, that a person could get used to living anywhere and any kind of way with the right company, and Hayama telling him to move the fuck on, that only a complete idiot would sacrifice his career to be with his high school sweetheart.

And Marui and Ibusaki agreeing with Hayama, save for the fact that it was Tadokoro. And drunk Isshiki leaving him a ten-minute voicemail about how you only get one soulmate.

Only Shinomiya and Tsukasa had been there in Paris to see him buy the ring, see him ready to sell Maison de Yukihira and walk away from the gourmet world to make her happy again. To this day, those two were the only ones who knew anything about it.

The ring was pretty modest, a single two karat diamond on a gold band. It was all he could afford at the time, and simple had always been her style, anyway.

The man behind the bulletproof pawn shop window gave him a sympathetic look as he placed it through the small metal slot.

"What happened, boss? Your lady said no?"

"Something like that," Souma replied, scratching the back of his head. In truth, he had never really given her the chance to.

"Better luck next time," he said. Then no more words were exchanged.

After weighing and examining the ring, the man placed it in a small Ziploc bag and handed Souma $3,500 in a thick envelope.

And then it was done, the last part of his subconscious that might have been waiting for her snuffed out like a flickering candle. He smoked a cigarette in front of the store and then got a coffee at his favorite diner in town where he left all the money for his waitress as a tip.

He could still hear the girl, a twenty-year-old sophomore at the University of San Francisco, screaming in delight as he made his way up the street.

By the time he got back to the apartment, Nakiri was on a Skype call with her second-in-command at Auctoritas, her Madrid flagship restaurant. He couldn't tell for the life of him when she had picked up Spanish, but the language flowed off her tongue so fluidly, so melodiously that he could just sit there and listen to her for hours.

To bad he was only given about three minutes before she ended the call and whirled on him. "Where the hell have you been?"

He shrugged. "Errands."

"Just hire an assistant already," she said, rolling her eyes and shifting her attention back to her computer screen. "It would save you so much time."

"Maybe someday," Souma replied, even though he knew he never would. There were a few Nakiri-isms that had grown on him over the years, like only flying business class or better and buying overpriced noise-cancelling headphones, but a personal assistant would be taking it entirely too far.

"Your loss." Nakiri released a long sigh upon opening one of her emails.

"What's up?" he asked her.

"Tanaka Chiyo, the current ninth seat of the Elite Ten, wants to know if you'll come judge the Autumn Elections in October." She shook her head.

Souma quickly glanced over the 13,000 unread messages accumulated in his gmail inbox. Erina glared at him, probably thinking back to their days on the Elite Ten Council. He had almost ruined about ten conferences because he never checked his messages.

"You would have gotten something from her three months ago," she explained. "Doujima-san probably took pity on her soul and gave her my email address." Then her face reddened a bit, the way it always did when she wanted to ask him for something. "Anyway, I know you don't make plans this far in advance, and you have no taste, anyway, but-"

"You're gonna be there, right?" he asked her.

"Well, of course. Alice and her parents probably won't be able to come this year, and it's always best when a member of the Nakiri family can make an appearance. Also, given my new position..." She trailed off, shrugged like she didn't feel right calling herself the head of it yet.

 _Although I have tried to do my best for her, Erina has never known the love of a complete family. Not in the way Alice has._

"Then I'll come."

"What?" She placed her laptop down on the coffee table. "You know something's probably going to come up."

"And I'll tell them I already have plans." He said this as though it would be simple, although they both knew things like this were anything but. Still, he had never made a habit of breaking promises to her.

"But-"

"Nakiri, don't make it complicated," he told her, grinning. "I'll be there." And the smile on her face was more than worth whatever hell keeping such a promise would surely bring about.

"Oh." Erina paused, tucking strands of blonde hair behind her left ear. She was clearly out of her element. "Well, then I guess I'll tell Tanaka-san the news."

 _I'm asking you not to waste her time, Yukihira Souma_

As she typed away, a few clicks faster than she usually did, Souma recalled what started off his conversation with the demon lord of food. The old man had, in typical patriarch fashion, asked what his intentions really were with his granddaughter. And he had replied honestly, 'Whatever she wants, gramps.'

The former headmaster had looked at him for a long while and then said that he would come to know what Erina truly wanted from him if he listened carefully, looked closely.

And it seemed like he had finally found his answer.

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading, everyone! Happy Holidays!


	8. Committed to Conflict

"I have to get back to the restaurant, you guys," Erina groaned, even as Ikumi called room service to bring up more drinks and brunch foods.

It was mid-morning and they were sitting on the balcony of Hisako's penthouse suite at the Hayatt, all but Alice sipping red sangria. There were only three days left before the pre-opening of Canvas, and the squad had descended upon the Bay Area early to surprise—and thoroughly distract—Erina.

"Let Yukihira handle it for now," Alice said with a dismissive wave. "You know he's just gonna disappear on you when Ryo and the others arrive."

Erina pursed her lips at this, annoyed with him in advance. "I suppose that is true."

"Of course it is. Now, rotate your wrist, Hishoko," Alice ordered as she held the pink haired woman's left hand up to the sun. Ikumi and Erina leaned forward to better observe the near-blinding light that reflected off the central stone.

"Holy shit!" Ikumi said, before bringing Hisako's hand down to eye-level so she could further inspect it. "This has gotta be worth $15,000 US at least."

"Twenty," Erina said as she eyed it.

Alice, who had been there when Akira bought the ring, revealed a small smirk and casually pointed her index finger skyward. "Higher."

"I don't want to know," Hisako sighed. As soon as she saw the robin egg blue box, she knew that he had done something crazy.

The ring was too much, too showy, too grand— _three_ Tiffany Classic diamonds on a platinum band. Hisako would have never chosen something so extravagant on her own, but she endured the constant _oohs_ and _ahhs_ and _holy shits_ of her friends, sous chefs, and students because she knew how much it meant to him to be able to spend inordinate amounts of money on her (and truth be told, the bling was starting to grow on her).

"For the amount of time he made you wait, it needed to be something spectacular," Erina said as she swirled her drink around.

"If that's the case, you must be expecting a whole mine full of diamonds," said Ikumi who had at some point swapped out her sangria for a flask of rum.

Erina chafed at the comment for a moment. If Alice had said it, she would have snapped, but she was glad to have grown close enough to Ikumi to experience the full extent of her sass.

"I haven't been waiting for that long," she said petulantly. In the most technical sense, he had only been her boyfriend—it was still so weird to think about—for two and a half weeks.

"You haven't been _dating_ for that long," Alice corrected. "You've been in love with Yukihira since you were seventeen."

"That's not..." Erina paused, the denial of a lifetime poised at her lips when she recalled half-drunk card games in the Elite Ten's parliamentary office, sneaking off into the city to visit a new pop-up restaurant and leaving Hayama with all the paperwork, sitting on kitchen countertops taste-testing whatever madness he had come up with this or that time.

She remembered his dish for BLUE, the one that brought him to the world's stage, the one finally made her give in and admit that his cooking made her see stars. She remembered going over the ingredients in her head that night before bed—the seafood, fresh legumes, and sun-dried tomatoes, the subtle hints of honey that permeated the sauce—tears welling in her eyes with the knowledge that the dish that won her had been for someone else.

Erina heaved a long sigh and finished off her drink. In truth, part of her must have been waiting for Yukihira Souma since the day she met him. Maybe even before then.

"New topic," Hisako said, reading her expression. She pulled out a thick bridal magazine, annotated with countless blue post-it notes. "What am I doing with my hair for the wedding?"

* * *

Megumi knew that they shouldn't have left Tuscany until the latest possible moment, and she had said as much. But still, out of brotherly love and an undying urge to prove he was okay with his twin's marriage to his ex-girlfriend, her husband had agreed to spend a week at Isami and Ikumi's place out in the Napa Valley before the pre-open.

When they first arrived, Ikumi had been sipping champagne in the hot tub, wearing a black monokini and eating strawberries off of a glass dish. Isami had been lounging in a beach chair, emailing the increasing number of restaurant managers interested in serving his Cabernet Sauvignon.

Although he was polite and tried—most times unsuccessfully—to keep an open mind, Takumi's emotions always showed on his face. Megumi knew at once that he didn't quite approve of their excessive display of wealth—the vast swimming pool out front and the his and hers Lamborghinis parked in a garage entirely too big for the sleek sports cars.

"Not even Erina and Yukihira are this ridiculous," he had whispered to her on their first night in a guest bedroom bigger than their master at home.

Megumi chucked a bit at this. "Let them be," she said. "You know Isami-kun and Ikumi-san have always been a bit um...eccentric."

That was a wild understatement, she knew. The two had gotten married in New Zealand, in secret ceremony, without the blessing of nonna Aldini or the acknowledgement of the Catholic church. To this day, she knew Takumi resented that he wasn't present for his brother's wedding, even though Isami's pursuit of Ikumi had almost put an end to the brothers' friendship.

Things were much better between them now, of course. The brothers Aldini were two halves of the moon; they could never remain at odds for long. But still, Takumi did wait until Ikumi had left to day-drink with Erina and the gang to make his request.

"Isami, I need you to take over the trattoria," he said, while they were in the kitchen free-styling dinner. "The baby's due in March and we want to spend the first year in Tokyo to make things easier for Megumi with her job."

"I wish I could help you, nii-chan," Isami replied, with a truly regretful look in his deep blue eyes. He held his glass of wine up to more closely inspect the quality. "But we just finished buying a cattle ranch down in Texas. The Mito Group wants to try something new with the cows they're breeding. We're gonna be splitting our time between here and there for the next few years."

" _Fratello_ ," Takumi said. "I know that you're enjoying this..." The blond paused, grasping for the right word. "This lifestyle. But Trattoria Aldini is the family business. Dad's getting older. He can't do it alone."

"The Mito Company is also my family's business," Isami reminded him. "And my wife is going to be the CEO soon. I belong in the states with her, at least for now. If you want to hire another sous chef I'll pay for it—"

"No one is asking for your money, Isami." The words came out harsher than Takumi intended, but he still meant them.

"Nobody said you were, nii-chan." He swirled the wine in his cup, sipped it. "But it's here if you need it."

They let it hang between them for a moment, the geographic distance and their divergent priorities, and also that which was known by both brothers but remained unsaid.

The older Aldinis, especially their father and grandparents, had never exactly approved of Ikumi—not when she was Takumi's tough-as-nails high school girlfriend, and _especially_ not after she moved on to the other brother. Isami hadn't been on speaking terms with their father since a particularly colorful argument a few weeks before the wedding. The dark haired twin had made it clear that he would cut off anyone who disrespected her.

"You won't even consider returning to Italy."

"I won't," he replied.

Another crack in the mezzaluna.

* * *

When Erina was finished with her day-drinking and wedding planning, she found that the upperclassmen had descended upon Canvas.

Souma was holding court as always, somehow managing to entertain them while moving tables and decor into the main dining room.

"How does one do that?" Tsukasa Eishi asked her as he watched Souma banter with his wife.

"Do what?"

"Extraversion."

Erina laughed a little at this before following his gaze.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched Rindou sitting on the bar table, one mile-long leg crossed over the other. The red haired woman pulled a cigarette out of her purse, stuck it between her lips and had Souma light it.

"I hate that she does that," the former first seat said, half to Erina and half to himself. She wasn't sure if he was referring to the tobacco or the flirting.

"Tell your wife to stop smoking in my restaurant," she said, only partly joking.

"Tell your boyfriend to stop charming my wife," Tsukasa countered in the same tone.

Erina only gave a noncommittal shrug in response. Souma could charm the paint off the walls when he got in a certain mood, but he never meant anything by it. Rindou probably didn't either. But still...

"I can't believe those two used to sleep together." It was during that hazy period between when he broke up with Tadokoro and when he started fooling around with her. Erina hadn't paid much attention to it at the time because her attention had been elsewhere.

Eishi shot her a sidelong glance.

"What?" she asked.

"You dated Saito."

"Casually," she stressed, deciding that she would need another drink soon. "Besides, he didn't last long."

There was a pregnant pause, and then both of them started laughing hysterically. When Erina looked up, Kinokuni Nene was shaking her head at them.

"I expected better from the two of you," she said. "Can't believe Satoshi made me leave our son with the sitter for this."

Suddenly Eishi blanched and started fiddling with his cell phone. "The sitter! What if she forgot to feed the baby, or if he got lost and she's too afraid to tell me. Or what if he got sick; summer colds are a thing, you know and..."

At this point, Erina knew that he wouldn't be good for any more conversation for the next few hours.

"You really are all parents now," she said, thinking also of Alice's pregnancy, and Megumi's, and the fact that Hisako had always wanted children.

"Has baby fever finally gotten to you, Nakiri-san?" asked Isshiki who had miraculously appeared at his wife's side. He glanced suggestively at Souma and then winked at Erina. "He's good with kids, you know."

"Extremely good," said Kuga, virtually coming out of nowhere. "I tried to hire Yukihira-chin as my live-in nanny, but alas he refused."

"Okay," she said, her cheeks dyed vermilion. "We are not having this conversation."

"But—"

"Nope." Erina crossed her arms, her cheeks puffing up a little. "End of discussion!"

Just then Souma came over to join the ever-growing group. "What's wrong, Nakiri?"

All was quiet for a moment, and then Kinokuni-san adjusted her glasses with a professorial air. "She," the woman said, pointing to Erina, "wants to have your babies. And the rest of us want you to get on with it already."

Isshiki and Kuga nodded solemnly in agreement.

When Erina was certain that she wouldn't melt into the finished wood flooring, she grasped for a comeback. Even though every iota of her wanted to explode, she knew that going off would only make it seem true.

"I think you're mistaken, Kinokuni-san," she said, surprised at how calm her voice came out, how casual. She interlaced her fingers to stop them from trembling. "Kuga's the one who wants his babies."

They all shared a laugh at this and Souma went to bring out a bottle of Aldini brand cab sauv.

"You missed an opportunity there," Isshiki whispered to her once he was gone.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," she replied, her body still tingling with nerves. "Consider yourself lucky that I won't poison all of you." Hisako would teach her how if she asked.

She took a deep breath and rolled her neck, letting the last waves of nervousness leave her.

Three more days until the pre-open—ten until the real thing. After that she could let the knowledge that he was good with kids drive her mad.

 **Author's Notes:** This chapter is brought to you by the connecting flight that I missed yesterday lol. Thanks for reading, everyone! I wish you all a happy new year!


	9. A Casual Opening

It was the night of the soft opening of one of the most anticipated new restaurants of the decade, and every titan in the culinary world had fought, bribed, or begged his name onto the guest list.

On the far left side of the rooftop bar, overlooking the city, a reporter from the New York Times attempted to get a quote from Kobayashi Rindou, while her husband tried to stop her from stuffing an hors d'oeuvre down the poor journalist's throat. And to the right a rising statesman hashed out the politics of hunger with Arato Hisako, who was dressed in a black evening gown with a slit up one side, her huge engagement ring blinding passers-by as she gestured.

But in the midst of all the pomp and circumstance, all the envy and intrigue, they were still just four guys chilling at a bar.

"It looks like Arato-san has that ambassador on the ropes," Marui said as he glanced around the open space.

Shoji, who had always possessed a quixotic sort of affection for her, nodded emphatically. "Hayama doesn't deserve that woman," he said, and they let him have that personal truth.

"Don't think of it as her marrying him. It's just old money marrying new money," Daigo pointed out. "It's gotta be a hundred million US between them."

Shoji only shrugged. "He's still an asshole."

"That's how it goes sometimes," Marui said, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

"Says the man who just left his fiance," Ibusaki replied as he sipped his beer.

The bespectacled man shook his head. In truth, he had walked right into that one. Two months ago, he had been engaged to Enomoto Madoka. But after returning to Tōtsuki to help move Fumio-san to her retirement community, an old spark unexpectedly ignited.

Namely, as they packed the boxes and revisited all the vestiges of their Polar Star years, he was faced with the fact that as long as Yoshino Yuki walked this earth, he couldn't spend his life with another woman.

"I'd rather not discuss it—"

"Leave it to Marui," Daigo chimed in, slapping the grad student's shoulder. "To think you'd be the one to spark the biggest scandal since SouMegeddon!"

"It's still fucked up that we call it that," said Shun, as he sipped his drink.

Marui had to agree. All things considered, the breakup had been pretty drama-free. He was about to tell them as much, but the words died on his lips when she walked in, wearing a fuchsia cocktail dress and flanked by Ryouko and one of her colleagues from the Food Network. He had always known that she belonged on TV.

She winked discreetly at him before taking a champagne flute from a passing server's tray, much to the amusement of Daigo and Shoji. Already he could tell that it was going to be a long night.

* * *

"What craziness is Yukihira up to this time?" Takumi asked as he scrolled through the menu questionnaire.

"Hey! It's like a Buzzfeed quiz," Hinako pointed out, shoving her Canvas iPad in her husband's face.

"Calm yourself," Shinomiya said, even as his eyes remained fixed on the menu. "It's just another one of the brat's cheap tricks. Once we figure out the code, it won't be that impressive."

A small smile grew on Megumi's face as she ran her fingers over her tablet's sumptuous leather case.

She remembered lying in bed with him on some rainy Sunday afternoon in Paris or Milan, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of her back.

 _What if you could make dishes out of people's moods?_

She had given him an indulgent smile, a lingering kiss; leave it to him to start thinking about cooking right after sex.

 _What do you mean, Souma-kun?_

 _You know, if you could know what your customers want even better than they do._

 _I think only a god could do something like that,_ she had said, stretching. _A god or you._

His cooking had finally reached Olympus.

Megumi shook her head softly, returning to reality as Doujima-san and another Tōtsuki executive joined their table. As the years went on, sometimes it was easy to forget how much she had loved him. It was why she couldn't let herself hold him back from all of this, from the pinnacle. More than anyone else she knew, Yukihira Souma deserved to make history.

"Is something wrong, _tesoro mio_?" Takumi asked her after they finished ordering, so to speak. "You've been so quiet."

"Just thinking," she said, resting a palm against her slightly protruding stomach, remembering that she had also gotten everything she deserved.

* * *

Nakiri Erina heaved a great sigh as a young sous chef held the plate in front of her for inspection, fatigued by the unrelenting incompetence that surrounded her in this world.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the red sauce's arrangement.

The boy blinked a few times, clearly taken by surprise. "I-is there an error, Chef Nakiri?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I specifically told you that the chili sauce should be arranged in the shape of a comma."

The sous chef looked down at his work. "Yes, and—"

"And that is _clearly_ a single quotation mark," she said through gritted teeth. "Wipe it off and do it again. Before the filet loses heat."

"Yes, Chef Nakiri! Right away."

When Erina turned around another assistant was waiting patiently for her to taste test a pottage.

"If you would, chef," the dark haired girl said. This should be fun.

Erina grabbed a clean spoon and tried it. Everything was fine, really. The girl had followed her recipe to the letter, but...

"You left it on the stove for half a second too long."

"I deeply apologize!" the girl cried out, hanging her head low. "Allow me to start from scratch."

"And how do you intend to make up for all the time you've lost us?"

"I...I um..." The girl's eyes quickly started to well with tears.

"Don't sweat it," Souma told the sous chef as he came over, all bright eyes and electric smiles. Erina could tell the little whelp would fall in love with him before the night was over. "Just ladle the soup into a different pot and leave out what's at the bottom."

The girl shot Erina a nervous glance before heading back to her station.

"Nakiri, you need to chill," he told her with an easy grin when they were as close to alone as they could be in the crowded kitchen. "They're gonna make more mistakes if you keep them on edge like that."

"And what would you have me do? You know how particular those critics can be!"

"I know no one but you can taste half a second's difference." Souma kissed her, then pressed his forehead against hers. "Just relax."

Erina, knowing that half the kitchen was probably watching their quasi-romantic spectacle instead of doing their damn jobs, pulled herself away. "You've got some nerve telling me to relax. Neither one of us handles stress particularly well."

"That's not—"

"You smoked a whole pack of cigarettes this morning. Let me yell at people." With that she turned on her heel and left to attend to half a dozen rabbit entrees, determined to only ream out the staff for the most egregious of errors.

* * *

"So," Doujima Gin said to his longtime friend as the event was drawing to a close, "What are you gonna do now that the boy's finally surpassed you?"

"In cooking?" Jouichirou smirked, drinking his bourbon. "He did that a long time ago. But he's still losing."

"How can that be true?" asked Jun as she made meager progress with her pinot grigio.

"When I was his age I was already married with a kid."

"What's that got to do with anything, Saiba-senpai?" Jun asked, scowling. "You can't just make up new criteria out of nowhere. That's just like you!"

Jouichirou merely shrugged. "I don't know how Erina entertains that dumbass."

"They're good for each other," Doujima said. Then his face turned stern. "You'd know that if you came around more often."

"Exactly," Jun said. "It's wholly unacceptable."

"Why is it that I can't show up anywhere without being lectured by you two?"

"Because even after all these years your behavior is still too loose," Doujima told him. "How long are you going to keep acting like a teenager?"

Jouichirou sighed. "How about this: when I get some grandkids, I'll straighten up."

"I'd have to see that in order to believe it," Jun said. After all, this was a man who had slept through half his exams during finals week.

"Maybe you will," he said before standing to take his leave.

"You're not going to congratulate your son?" Doujima asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The newspapers will do that well enough," he said. "And I have a flight to catch."

"That man." Jun rolled her eyes once he had left her line of sight.

Doujima shook his head. "If nothing else, I imagine he'd be fun as a grandfather."

 **Author's Notes:** Sorry for the late update! Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed it!


	10. Casual by Comparison

Erina groaned as the phone in the hotel room started to ring with her requested wake up call. They had checked in late last night after a dinner service at Canvas and an eleven hour flight to Tokyo.

After thanking the poor front desk employee who had to be awake and chipper at five in the morning, she bent down in front of her suitcase and pulled out the makings of a simple outfit by the light of her iPad.

"Nakiri, what are you doing?" Yukihira gazed down at her, rubbing his eye. "It's gotta be the ass crack of dawn."

Erina rolled her eyes. Of course the man who slept through seven alarms on a near daily basis would suddenly be bothered by a little landline ring. "It is," she said. "But I have maid of honor tasks to attend to."

"The ceremony's not until two in the afternoon."

"Exactly," she said, pulling on her jeans. "I have to meet with the caterer and the baker and the florist to ensure that everything's done correctly."

"Okay, I understand the first two, but do you even know anything about flowers?"

Erina made a point of ignoring him. Considering the number of times she'd been a bridesmaid in the past five years, it would be suspect if she didn't know a great deal about floral arrangements.

"Then there's the photographer! He has to grasp what kind of lighting best suits Hisako's facial features. And those are just the essentials-"

"Nakiri, it's not even your wedding," he said as he watched her feel around for her bra.

 _And whose fault was that?_

Erina blinked a few times. Had she really just thought that? Maybe it was the _six_ retraction request letters she had to write to the notable food critics who had referred to them as a "husband and wife pair" in their Canvas reviews.

 _My apologies, Miss Nakiri,_ they had all written in their responses, _I must have misunderstood._

She must have misunderstood along with them.

"Hisako has supported me all this time," she said, after catching herself. "If I don't make sure this day is perfect for her, it'll be like I failed as a friend."

"Damn, Nakiri." Souma took her hand, gently leading her back onto the bed. "You're always so extreme."

Erina rolled her eyes, but smiled a bit as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"As if you're one to talk," she said, snatching her hand back on principle. He had definitely spent the majority of the flight revising his toast. From what she had read over his shoulder, it honestly wasn't half bad.

As she leaned back against the pillows, Erina pictured Hisako in her wedding dress with her bouquet of blue hydrangeas and hawthorn wrapped in cinnamon leaves, and on her honeymoon in Bali, reading on the beach, and later teaching her first child the art of calligraphy. She felt her eyes grow heavy with tears and closed them.

Suddenly, she felt Souma's hand on her thigh. "What's the matter, Nakiri?"

Erina exhaled slowly. It was truly frightening that a person as dense as him could read her so well. "Do you think he really loves her?" she asked after a pause.

"Hayama?" Souma asked.

She opened her eyes again just to glare at him. "No, her other fiance."

"You waited until now to ask that? C'mon, it's you, Nakiri. Would you have let it go this far if you didn't think they were right for each other? Didn't you make him sign a fifty page contract before you even let them date back in high school."

"Those were only guidelines!" Erina said. "And they were completely reasonable. Even permissive, all things considered." In her humble opinion, no one was good enough for Hisako, but she had curbed her overprotective impulses quite well over the years.

"You had three different lawyers go over it."

"Well, that's just common sense." Erina sighed. "But I suppose you're right."

"I should have gotten that on tape."

"Screw you," she said, giving his shin the tiniest of kicks. "I have to get going. Have you seen my-"

He handed her the black bra that had long since been discarded, apparently on his side of the bed.

"I'll be back," she said after she finished dressing, and she knew his eyes followed her to the door.

* * *

By the time Erina reached Hisako's suite, the rest of the bridesmaids were already in hair and makeup.

"The photographer should be ready for us in about an hour," she said before plopping down in an empty stylist's chair. Right away, the beautician started blowing out her blonde tresses.

Alice groaned from her plush salon chair. "My foot massage won't even by done by then."

"We're doing massages too?" Erina asked, scrolling through her online itinerary. That would add at least another hour to their prep time.

"We're not," Hisako said, moving her lips as little as possible, as not to disturb her makeup artist's meticulous work. "But she's pregnant, and she's gonna do what she wants anyway."

Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Just bear with it, Hishoko," Alice said. "Besides, it was cruel of you to wait until I looked like a blimp to get married."

"More like you waited until I was engaged to get pregnant," Hisako replied. "And you're not even showing that much. No one is going to notice when they look at the photos."

"Still! I put so much work into getting you and Akira together, and I couldn't even drink at the bachelorette party."

"You dodged a bullet there," Ikumi said. "The rest of us were hungover for like five days."

"Lightweights," Alice quipped.

"You say that now," Ikumi said as she inspected her new French manicure, "but the minute the kid comes out, I'll be drinking you under the table again."

Just under an hour later, the bride to be stood in front of a full body mirror, turning this way and that to see how the dress moved with her.

"Do you think the bun is too high?" Hisako asked Erina when she approached. She ran her fingers over the pearl headpiece that held it in place.

"Spin around," Erina said. When she did, the Nakiri heiress watched her carefully. "Just as I thought."

"What is it? Did something rip?"

"You look perfect."

"Don't scare me like that, Erina-sama!" she said, though she was smiling. "Thank you for putting so much work into all of this. I know you didn't have the time for it."

"It was nothing," Erina replied, smoothing her hands over her own tea-length blue gown. "Besides, you know you're the only reason I was able to function for the first eighteen years of my life."

"That's not true," Hisako said. "I was probably more of a hindrance than anything."

"You hindered me from making an ass of myself," Erina said as she grabbed a champagne flute, filled it. "Well, as much as anyone could back then. The least I could do is plan your wedding."

Hisako opened her mouth to argue, but instead she just sighed. "In that case, I can't wait to return the favor."

* * *

Arato Hisako and Hayama Akira stayed at their wedding reception for all of forty-five minutes before sneaking off to fool around and then leaving on their honeymoon.

"Typical," Alice said as she sorted through her pile of wedding gifts, hours after most of the guests had retreated back to their hotel rooms. "It's just like them to pull something like this."

Erina shrugged. "I suppose that's just what happens when two introverts get together." She wouldn't tell Alice just then that Hisako had been planning to do this since the beginning. They had originally wanted to elope, after all. "Do you think they'll want the his and hers hand towels in London or in Tokyo?"

"London," Alice said. "What about the champagne flutes?"

"Send those to Boston," Erina replied, handing her cousin a shipping label with the right address. Those would help when she had to entertain her Harvard friends.

"The picture frames can go to Dubai," Alice told her later, when they were nearly done. "Can you believe those two finally got their shit together? I was actually worried for a little while."

Erina had been too, back when Hisako was coping with the breakup by dating a string of professional athletes. "Her father still isn't happy."

"That man is never happy," Alice replied. She put the last stamp on the last box and left shipping instructions for the hotel staff. "But they are. That's what's important."

After they were done, the cousins went back to their respective rooms.

"You must be exhausted," Souma said. When she finally returned it was close to 3 am. "I was about to go find you."

"Unnecessary," she said through a yawn as she pulled her pumps off and started rubbing the arch of her right foot.

He tossed her the shirt she had slept in the night before, and she quickly deserted her dress and jewelry and crawled back into bed. Erina was half asleep by the time she realized she still had makeup on. "Yukihira," she nearly groaned. "Can you hand me the-"

"I got you," he said, and in a matter of minutes he had found the wipes at the bottom of her makeup bag. Then, gently, he wiped the cosmetics from her lids and lips and cheeks. It wasn't as thorough as what Erina would usually do for herself, but she didn't quite have it in her to complain. "You want the lotion too?"

She shook her head. "Too tired. Thanks, though."

"Anytime." He kissed the space between her eyes, and Erina couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Where are you going after we check out tomorrow?" she asked. "I might stay in town for awhile." It had been months since she'd last checked up on The Evening Star.

"Same here," he said. "Pops probably hasn't opened the diner in a year."

"He definitely hasn't." Erina recalled reading about one of his pop-up eateries in Toronto that spring.

"Are we going to your place or mine?"

Erina was going to ask why an 'or' was even necessary, why they couldn't each go to their own apartments as they always had in the past, but the words wouldn't come. "You pick," she said.

"Yours, then."

Erina smirked. "You just like my balcony," she said before yawning again. "We'll go in the morning."

"Good night, Nakiri."

"Night." She was asleep before the word had fully left her lips.

 **Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay with this chapter! I'm graduating from college in a month, and things have been a little hectic for me this semester, both academically and professionally. Thanks for reading, everyone, and have a great day!


	11. Committed to Caring (casually)

To the untrained eye, all seemed well at the Nakiri-Yukihira residence. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and Erina had the thermostat turned all the way up in the Tokyo penthouse. She sat on the black leather living room couch dressed in leggings and the burgundy Harvard sweatshirt Hisako had gotten her while she was in grad school.

As she sipped from her mug of darjeeling tea and exchanged emails with her sous chefs and business associates, Erina's lilac gaze frequently shifted to the window.

Her boyfriend (yes, _boyfriend_ , she could finally say it without cringing) had been out on the balcony making phone calls and chain smoking those damn cigarettes for the past three hours. They had been living together on and off for a little over a year now, and Erina knew that he only did that when he was _really_ stressed.

From the small snippets of the conversations she overheard, the situation had to do with Eizan Etsuya—she had forgotten that creep was even alive—and some sort of strip mall. Why Souma would get so worked up over something like that was beyond her, but she hated seeing him like this. She always had, even back when they were in high school and the only one who ever knew how to get him out of those moods was Tadokoro-san.

With a weary sigh, she waited for the fleeting wave of jealousy to leave her before turning back to her MacBook Pro.

When it came down to it, Erina just wasn't a natural empath. She cared about people, she really did, but feelings were a language she was never quite fluent in. For example, back in high school, Hisako had been having a full-on love affair with Hayama Akira for _six whole months_ before Erina had even the slightest inkling her best friend liked him. Back then she didn't even know how she felt about Yukihira until he started dating another girl—you know, the one who always knew exactly what to say to him and which sweet gesture to use to turn his day around.

Erina was _never_ going to be that girl; she had come to terms with that a long time ago. But still, she got up and opened the sliding door.

…Then she promptly closed it again because it was a lot colder outside than she'd anticipated. Fall was such a bullshit season; it had been hot just three days ago.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in a Polartec blanket and nursing another mug of tea, Erina joined her boyfriend on the balcony.

"How are you not cold?" she asked, eyeing the black t-shirt that had led her to believe it wasn't freezing anymore.

He glanced up at her before putting the latest cigarette out, then offered her a vacant smile. "Must not have noticed."

"There's a limit to how one track minded a person has a right to be."

"Guess you're right," he sighed. "There's sort of a lot going on right now."

"Anything I can help with?" she asked, nudging his knee with hers. "I haven't told anyone off in a while."

Souma glanced at her incredulously.

"What?" she asked as she returned the look tenfold.

"You haven't told _anyone_ off?"

"You don't count. We're dating." She rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself.

"What about Alice?"

"Okay, Alice starts with me. Constantly. So any arguments with her shouldn't…"

She trailed off as Souma received another message, read it, sighed. She could feel him growing tense next to her. "Listen, Nakiri, I have to head out of town for a few days."

Erina nodded, thinking. _What if…_

"Do you…want company?"

"You don't have time for that," he told her, and boy was he right. Erina's career was nonstop, as always. When it wasn't Tōtsuki it was the restaurants, and when it wasn't the restaurants it was the magazines, the clients, the interviews and guest appearances. It was a rare luxury for her to be able to work from home like she was today.

"I mean, I don't," she admitted. "I'm pretty sure you don't either, but…" _But if he needed her, she would find a way to make it work._ Now, if only she could get those words to her lips before….

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you when I get back." He kissed her forehead and disappeared back inside the apartment.

…before that.

In the next minute and a half Erina heard the keys jingle, the knife case snap shut, the door lock behind him. Then he was gone.

* * *

In the next few days, Erina made it her business to find out exactly what Etsuya Eizan had been up to since he graduated from Tōtsuki close to a decade prior. Hardly a chef, he had made himself rich by buying and selling restaurant franchises and apartment complexes, often to the detriment of communities and local economies.

"Nakiri-san." Her personal assistant walked into her office carrying a stack of manila folders stuffed with more intel on Eizan's real-estate conglomerate. "I've compiled the data you asked for, and I highlighted the properties that might make good locations for Tōtsuki hotels. Should I contact Eizan-san's secretary and schedule a meeting?"

"That won't be necessary, Kanon," she said. "I have nothing to say to that man. But could you get Hisako on the phone?" While she didn't know whether she should call Souma or just wait for him to come back, Hisako would definitely have the right answer. She always did.

The young woman, who often reminded Erina of a younger version of herself, shifted uncomfortably. "Um…Nakiri-san, earlier you said that Arato-san is on her honeymoon and that I shouldn't let you disturb her. Does that still stand or…"

Right. She had forgotten about that, mostly because the wedding had been nearly a month ago. Exactly how long were she and Hayama going to lie on the beach? Erina sighed. "No, you're right. Don't bother her."

"Should I call Alice-san?"

"Definitely not." Her cousin would probably give her pretty good advice, but only after telling Erina how shitty at relationships she was—as if she didn't know already—and she did not need that kind of negativity in her life right now. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I can take it from here."

After her assistant left, Erina went back to the files and found that in the past five years Eizan had been aggressively buying up properties within the Sumiredori shopping district—which actually wasn't a strip mall—and driving up the rent for local tenants and business owners. Five shops had closed their doors just in the last month.

From a business standpoint, the strategy made little sense. The only places of interest in the area were a major train station and a quaint neighborhood diner that had attracted lots of attention in recent years.

But Erina knew Etsuya Eizan, and she knew without a doubt in her mind that the man had done all of this with the sole objective of antagonizing her boyfriend.

And she was going to end him.

* * *

Two days after Erina issued the network-wide blacklist, she received a phone call from her cousin, the current head of Nakiri International.

"Erina, what the hell?" Alice asked, probably with the memo on her desk in Copenhagen. " _Any entity that conducts business with any branch of the Tōtsuki Network or its partner associations and distributors will cease all professional dealings with Eizan Etsuya and the Eizan Group effective immediately?_ I mean I know the guy's a creep, but isn't this a little bit excessive?"

"I made an executive decision, and I stand by it."

"Do you understand how large our network is?"

"He should have thought of that before he made an enemy of the Nakiris."

Alice gave a tinkling laugh. "So your boyfriend counts as a Nakiri now? Things are moving fast, aren't they, Erina?"

"T-that's not relevant." Erina could feel her face flushing.

"Eizan will probably go bankrupt within the month."

"That would be the idea."

"Wow. It's been a while since you've gotten this mad," Alice said. "You gonna tell Yukihira you're out here destroying his enemies?"

Erina swiveled around in her office chair and glanced out at the Tokyo skyline. "I don't see why he would need to know."

Her cousin sighed into the receiver. "You're always gonna be like this, aren't you?"

"Probably," she admitted before excusing herself from the phone call and heading home for the night.

By the sound of the washing machine running—she really had let the clothes pile up this time—Erina knew that Souma was home. With a contented little smile, she walked to the bedroom and found him just finishing up a phone call.

"Hey Nakiri." He kissed her. "What have you been up to?"

"This and that." Erina bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smile. "You look awful," she said, hesitating for a moment before she started to massage his shoulders. She wouldn't be surprised if he had slept five hours total in the past five days.

"I'm fine, Nakiri."

Erina rolled her eyes. As long as somebody somewhere needed something from him, Yukihira was always 'fine.' He was fine when he hadn't slept in a week; he was fine with a 39 degree fever, and when he was coughing his lungs up every five minutes. By now Erina was over it. "I didn't ask for your input," she said.

"You're really something else," he leveled, slightly leaning into her touch. It was rare for her to be so openly affectionate.

"Don't stress yourself too much." She frowned a bit as she felt the tension deep in his muscles. "It's going to be fine."

"It's not like you to be so optimistic."

"I'm not," she said, nearly snorting. "Not in the slightest."

"Then how-"

"Just a feeling." She left a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck, surprising even herself with the tenderness.

 **Author's Notes:** Bonus chapter (because you guys are awesome)! This was actually a prompt that I posted on Tumblr a few months ago, but I tweaked it a bit so it fit better with the timeline and the mood of this story. I sort of like experimenting with Erina's softer side. Anyway, thanks for reading, everyone!


	12. Some Casual Confusion

It wasn't that Souma was unaccustomed to Nakiri being right; she had to be right about 95% of the time. But her prediction about the fate of the Sumiredori Shopping District had been almost scarily accurate.

"Hey, Yukihira-kun!"

Souma looked up from the kebabs he had been grilling for the community street fair. "What's up, Kurase?"

The short haired woman, now co-president of the neighborhood association, glanced down at her clipboard. "It looks like we raised enough money to buy back Murakami-san's shop as well. Thank you so much for putting this together. I know you're really busy."

"Don't mention it," he said.

"How can I not?" she asked. "People have been coming from all over the country just to try your cooking." Kurase fidgeted a bit, blushing as she consulted the figures again. "You've always been amazing, Yukihira-kun, but now..."

It was funny. Even after going to university for business and working in Marunouchi, Kurase was still the same as she'd been in elementary school—reliable, kind. Him on the other hand...sometimes he barely even recognized himself.

"That's definitely not true." He turned the skewers on the grill, applied the sauce. "I'm nothing special, but this place wouldn't have made it without you and Tomita-san. How'd you guys even manage to get Eizan out of here?"

Kurase's eyes widened. "We had nothing to do with that. One minute, that corporation was buying up everything, and the next they were just gone. Honestly, between that and the donation from the Nakiri Group, we assumed that it had to be you and your connections. But if it wasn't, then..."

"Don't sweat it, Kurase." Honestly, he had to be a real fucking idiot not to realize it sooner. Nakiri Erina had never been one to hold back against an enemy, but he hadn't thought she would go this far—not for him, anyway. "I know what probably happened."

* * *

Erina had never exactly been the clingy type, but it had been over a month since she'd last seen or heard from her best friend and she _needed_ to be brought up to speed.

"So tell me," she said as they got comfortable on Erina's couch. "What's it like being married to Hayama?"

Hisako rolled her eyes, but a small smile was twitching at her lips. "Utterly aggravating, but I guess that's to be expected." She dipped a piece of bread into the wheel of Camembert they'd baked. "So what kind of stationary should we print the baby shower invitations on?"

Erina shrugged. Alice was in the middle of her second trimester, and she still hadn't fully grasped the idea that her cousin was about to produce another living organism. "I need some prosecco before I can really think about it," she said. "Do you want any?"

Hisako shook her head, fidgeting a bit. "Erina-sama, I'm going to tell you something, but you have to promise me you won't freak out."

"Why would I do that? I never freak out."

Hisako gave her a long look. "Erina-sama."

"Okay." She heaved a sigh. "I promise to remain completely calm. Now what's up?"

"Well, the thing is, I'm two weeks late."

 _WHAT?_

"I see." Okay. To Hisako's credit, Erina had needed the warning. Without it, she would have definitely screamed. To be honest, she still might. "W-were you trying?"

"I mean, we weren't trying. But we weren't _not_ trying either."

"Is there more to this story?" Erina asked.

"I don't know yet," she said. "But I'm trying not to drink much until I find out."

"Are there any other signs?" A half-giddy edge was creeping into Erina's voice; she was one thousand percent ready to be a godmother. "Do you feel sick? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, Erina-sama," the pink haired woman promised.

Erina nodded a few times, deep in thought. Then she stood up and pulled on a pair of brown boots. "Hisako, get your coat."

"Um, where are we going?" she asked, even as she proceeded to get herself ready.

"Drug store. We are figuring this out right now."

"Do you know which type works best?" Erina asked her friend as they stood in front of a shelf displaying two-dozen different brands.

Hisako shook her head. "I was just going to make a doctor's appointment, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to try one of these."

Erina bent down to more closely inspect some of the more reliable looking tests. "I think this one should be alright," she said, picking one up before she turned back to Hisako. Just as she did this, Erina heard the snap of a camera shutter. She glanced behind her just in time to see a young man in a bubble jacket jogging out of the store.

"Shit."

"Who in the world was that?" Hisako asked, reaching for her phone. "Was it a stalker? A pervert? Should I alert the authorities?"

Ah, Erina had missed that unique brand of overprotectiveness. "The foodie paparazzi has been hounding me since Canvas opened."

"Foodie paparaz..." Hisako trailed off. "That exists?"

"Apparently." Erina rolled her eyes. "They usually latch onto outrageous personalities like Kobayashi-san, but now they're obsessed with me."

"I'm so sorry, Erina-sama," Hisako said. "If that picture gets taken out of context."

Erina sighed. It definitely would be. "Don't worry about it." She linked arms with her best friend, still holding the test. "Let's just buy this thing and find out if we have cause to celebrate."

* * *

After a week in Paris and another in New York, Souma was on his way back to Tokyo to judge the Autumn Elections with Nakiri. At least he would be as soon as this flight boarded.

He glanced over at the bar in the airline's first class lounge and saw Yoshino Yuki there, sipping a Moscow mule.

"Yo, Yoshino!" he said, making his way over to her. The Food Network star turned around with her usual excited grin.

"Yukihira!" she squealed and hugged him, earning a few annoyed looks from the buttoned-up business reps surrounding them. "I'm seeing you twice in less than a year? This must be some kind of miracle."

"C'mon don't be like that."

"It's true, though," Yuki said after they sat back down and Souma ordered his drink. "You and Erina-chi reached god tier and now you don't have time for us anymore." Suddenly she perked up, remembering something. "Oh! Speaking of Erina-chi, congratulations!"

Souma eyed her warily. "Uh, thanks?"

"Come on, be more excited! The result was positive, right? All the top food and nightlife bloggers swear it was!"

"Yoshino, what are you talking about?"

Sighing, Yuki pulled her phone out and showed him a picture of Nakiri holding a pregnancy test in the drugstore up the street from their apartment. Her apartment. "Please tell me this isn't the first you're hearing of this." One look at his face, and Yuki knew she'd messed something up. "Oh no, Erina-chi probably wanted to do something special to tell you. Just forget I said anything!"

Souma was only half listening at this point. He knew logically that the chances of Nakiri actually being pregnant were slim to none; she had been on some elite birth control since before they started fooling around. But still, maybe something had happened. He had just made up his mind to call her when the plane started boarding.

Well, there went the chance of him getting any sleep on this flight.

* * *

Erina was almost finished getting ready for the judging when Souma reached the apartment. She wore a deep blue gown—off the shoulder, trumpet style—and diamond studs adorned her earlobes.

"Sorry I'm late, Nakiri," he said when he entered, duffel bag still slung over his shoulder.

"You're always late," she replied, trying not to poke herself in the eye with her mascara wand. "I'm just glad your flight actually got here."

When she was finished, he came over and wrapped his arms around her waist. "How have you been?" he asked, lips close to her earlobe. "Anything new?" Erina could tell at once what he was actually trying to ask her.

"Haven't you heard?" She scowled, recalling the exact number of times she had to clarify a certain matter over the past few days. "I'm apparently pregnant out of wedlock."

"So you're not—"

"One hundred percent not pregnant," she said, her face deadpan. "Sorry if you...had questions. I probably should have called and said something."

Souma shrugged, pulling the ironing board out from the back of the closet. So that was where he kept it.

"I figured it was out of context," he told her. "Yoshino's gonna be disappointed, though."

"Not more disappointed than Doujima-san," Erina said, chuckling. She opened one the drawers on her bedside table and pulled out a tasteful greeting card. "Just look at this."

"Damn," Souma said as he looked read over the card. The new Totsuki headmaster had filled both inside pages and the back cover with words congratulations and well-wishes. "How'd you even break it to him?"

"I didn't!" Erina rested her head in her hands. "How could I?"

"At this point it looks like we just need to have a kid."

Logically, innately, Erina knew that he was kidding, but her cheeks still flushed a bit. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to play it off. "Oh, please," she huffed. "Exactly who do you take me for? You should know that kids are off the table unless you marry me first."

Souma looked at her closely, and Erina had to avert her eyes as the blush grew. "Wait, is that for real?" he asked. "Would you really want to have kids if—"

"If we don't leave the house soon, we're going to be late," she said, grabbing her clutch from the nightstand. "And everyone will think it was because I had morning sickness."

With that, she left the apartment and went downstairs to wait in the limo, hoping and praying that he would be distracted enough by the food to forget that conversation.

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading, everyone! Have a great day!


	13. A Casual Confession

It had been a **tiny** accident. Really.

Erina was _fine_ —her Porsche, not so much— _but she was fine._ She had been driving back home after a dinner service at The Evening Star when hail the size of golf balls started falling from the sky. Then the driver behind her, in an eco-friendly but weather-averse smart car, skidded and rear-ended her.

She'd hit her head pretty damn hard against the dashboard upon impact, but no one was seriously hurt and she wasn't going to press charges. Still, everyone involved had been hauled off to the emergency room because the medical bureaucracy was _INTENSE._

Granted, it turned out that she did have a minor concussion. _Emphasis on minor._ But of course, as soon as the words "accident" and "hospital" were placed in the same sentence, people started to freak out.

The worst, naturally, had been Hisako, who would have abandoned the guest lecture she was giving at Harvard to fly fourteen hours from Boston and nurse her back to health if Hayama hadn't stopped her. She really would have to write him a thank you note for all the Hisako meltdowns he had prevented over the years.

And then Alice, poor pregnant Alice with her backaches and Braxton Hicks contractions, and grandfather with his heart condition, and Uncle Soe with his utter lack of chill had all been ready to get on the first flight from Denmark. And unlike Hisako, who was just worried, the Nakiri clan was also pissed. Her cousin and uncle spoke of lawsuits and jail time and general modern-day fire and brimstone, and she couldn't tell if her growing headache had more to do with them or the actual concussion.

By the time Yukihira arrived at the hospital, she was tired and nauseous and ready for painkillers and her bed. As soon as he entered the room, she pressed mute and then handed her cell phone to him.

"Hisako is on one line, Alice and the family are on the other. I need you to do that charismatic thing you do and make them all stop talking."

And so he did the charismatic thing. He assuaged all their worries and assured them that he would take care of Erina and convinced them that no one needed to be sued.

And then after the calls were over, and _no one_ was planning to fly to Tokyo that night, he kissed Erina's forehead in that haven't-seen-you-in-a-month way even though they were together just that morning. Afterwards, he held her for a long while, and Erina found it peculiar that his heart was beating so fast after he had just given two very convincing calm-the-fuck-down speeches.

She had just drawn a breath to call him on his hypocrisy when he half-whispered those words against the shell of her ear. "I love you, Nakiri. Just want to make sure you know that."

Erina was glad he couldn't see her face because it was probably redder than a maraschino cherry. Maybe she had hit her head harder than she originally thought. She could only bring herself to nod against his shoulder. She had figured as much since before they opened Canvas, before they were even 'together'—whatever that meant. It had been so self-evident that there was never a reason to say it directly.

But now he had, and she was still groping for the proper response like a fish washed up on a sandy shore when the doctor came back in to discharge her.

She had played the scene over in her mind all throughout the drive home, partly convincing herself that she had dreamed it.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked once they were home and she was back in her pajamas trying to figure out what she would do about her lunch service tomorrow afternoon.

"I'm perfectly fine," she replied. "Just turn the light off. My head is killing me."

He dimmed the lights and brought her Tylenol and water, then placed a cool cloth over her eyes.

"Isn't this the thing you cook with?" she asked, recognizing the fabric at once.

"What if it is?"

"Isn't it bad luck to give that to someone else?"

"Relax, Nakiri." He pressed a short kiss against her lips. "If it's you, it should be alright."

That night Erina fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, her head resting against his bare chest while he traced lazy patterns on the small of her back.

 _He loved her. He loved her._

This would be the start of everything.

* * *

True to his word, Yukihira had taken care of her after the accident. He cooked exactly what she wanted and gave her massages _and_ responded to all her emails so she didn't have to spend hours looking at a screen. He pushed back his trip to his Sydney restaurant and altogether cancelled an appearance he was supposed to make at a culinary festival in Scotland even though Erina had insisted that she would be fine if he went.

And while she appreciated being pampered as much as the next girl, maybe even a little more than the next girl, she couldn't help but feel like something was off. Yukihira seemed kind of…manic? She didn't know if manic was really the right word, but she was going to go with it.

He was always busying himself with one task or another—adjusting the thermostat by a single degree to make sure she wasn't too hot or too cold, forwarding her Totsuki related work to Chef Doujima or Megumi, making sure there was a sufficient amount of dark chocolate in the fridge. And he was sleeping even less than usual and smoking on the balcony when he thought she wouldn't notice.

Erina wondered, on one rare afternoon when she was left to her own devices—he still had restaurants to run, after all—if this had anything to with the 'I love you' thing.

Neither of them had mentioned it after he took her home from the hospital, but she technically didn't give any response.

To her credit, Erina told him she loved him all the time, in her own way. In her language, "I love you" translated roughly to "Come the fuck to bed" and "That is not your problem" and "Boxed wine should not be a thing!"

Her "I love you" was also hours spent berating his staff for taking advantage of his kindness, and days spent researching the company attacking his hometown, and years spent trying to work out some of her issues so she could become someone who even remotely deserved him.

She thought that she had made things painstakingly clear, but maybe he just needed to be sure. Erina honestly couldn't remember the last time she had said those words to anyone other than Hisako, who had needed constant care and reassurance while revising her dissertation, but she supposed she would have to try.

She had been considering the possible merits of saying it in Russian to save face when Megumi arrived at the apartment bearing sweets and hugs and notes from the board meeting she missed the other day.

"Are you feeling any better, Nakiri-san?" the dark haired woman asked, shifting on the couch to accommodate her baby bump.

Erina nodded, biting into one of the macrons she made. "I'm alright," she said. "Yukihira's been acting pretty strange, though."

As Erina weighed Megumi's abnormally sharp emotional intelligence against the sting of asking for relationship advice from his ex-girlfriend, the tourism department head nodded solemnly.

"It makes sense that he would be, considering…"

Erina heaved a small sigh, fighting down wave after wave of irritation. Of course _she_ would know exactly what was going on with him. This was why she never asked Megumi for advice. The brain injury must have really gotten to her.

"Considering what, Tadokoro-san?"

The other woman paused, probably shocked that Erina didn't know the piece of Yukihira trivia that had just flown to the forefront of her mind.

"W-well, I just mean since Souma-kun's mom died in a car crash it's natural that he would have a bad reaction to something like that. I'm pretty sure it was around this time of year, too, so…"

So she had been wrong…again. And kind of self-centered…again. Was it any wonder at all why he never told her anything?

Erina rested her still slightly concussed head in her hands. This couldn't go on any longer.

* * *

Erina had spent the next few hours contemplating how she should broach the subject. Assertive as she was in the world of gourmet food, she had never been particularly good with confrontation.

In fact, it fundamentally went against her nature to bring up something like this. But when he came home and started fussing over her again, looking like he hadn't slept in days, she knew that she had to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, leaning against the counter while he was making them dinner.

"That I'm making paella?"

She rolled her eyes. He really was an idiot. "No," she said. "About why you've been acting so weird since the accident. About your mom."

Souma looked pretty shocked for a moment, but then the pieces seemed to click in his mind. "Tadokoro did say she was gonna stop by."

"She assumed I already knew. And it honestly isn't a bad assumption that the person one is currently seeing would know at least as much as his ex."

"Look, Nakiri. I didn't tell you because it's not something you have to worry about. Let's just focus on healing that head of yours." As he said this, he ruffled her blonde tresses in a way that would usually make her laugh. Or pout. Probably both.

"That's not how it works, Souma," she said, her lilac eyes alight with defiance, with determination. "You can't just try to take care of me all the time and then ask me to never worry about you."

"Nakiri—"

"Look," she said. "No matter what it is, if something is bothering you, I want to be able to help because that's how it is when you love someone." She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "And I do, you know…love you. Too."

After this he kissed her, and she was somehow sure that they'd get it right someday.

"So that's all the emotion the world's getting out of you for the year," he said.

"For the decade," she corrected. But she was content to give all of it to him.

 **Author's Notes:** This is chapter started off as a prompt I fulfilled for Madeline Axelle on Tumblr, but I made a few small changes to make it better fit into this story.


	14. The Final Commitment

Souma sat up, heart racing, and glanced over at Nakiri. The woman in question was sleeping contentedly on her side of the bed, very much alive and fully recovered from her concussion, despite the information his last dream had conveyed.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest for a moment, the way she rolled onto her side and murmured something about not wanting to taste any more wedding cakes— _seriously, Nakiri?_ Then he swore under his breath because it was only 4:30 in the morning. Fantastic.

Souma's relationship with sleep had always been questionable at best, but since Nakiri's accident, the situation had worsened exponentially. Because she was Nakiri Erina, and she thought she was invincible, her view on the matter was always nonchalant. But still, her titanium attitude notwithstanding, she seriously could have died.

The thought was enough to convince him of the fact that there was no more sleep to be had for the night—probably for the rest of the week. He pressed a brief kiss against her right temple and went out to the balcony with his iPad and a pack of Marlboros. He could tell from the peculiar lightness of the latter that Nakiri had been throwing out his cigarettes again, little by little. Hers had always been a unique style of passive-aggression.

Although he had been trying to keep them from doing so, his thoughts drifted to his parents—his mother who had died young, and his father who had mourned her. Who had never really stopped mourning.

He rested his head in his hands, exhaling deeply. What the hell would he have done with himself if he had lost her then?

There was a time at which he would have talked to Tadokoro about something like this—she was the only person he'd ever really told about his mom—but there were definitely limits on what a person could ask of his married ex-girlfriend.

He finished the pack of cigarettes and the ingredient orders for Canvas and Maison de Yukihira before showering and getting started on breakfast. Nakiri would roll out of bed any minute now if she wanted to make her flight to Madrid.

She strolled out in her robe, hair still dripping from the shower, just as the tiramisu-stuffed french toast was finished.

"I was going to grab something at the airport," she said as she made her way to the kitchen. "You didn't have to get up early."

"It's fine. I was awake, anyway."

"Oh." For a moment she looked as though she wanted to say something more, but then she just poured herself a cup of coffee. "I think I'm going to stop in Copenhagen on my way back," she said. "Alice has been complaining incessantly, and it would be cruel to make Kurokiba put up with her alone."

Souma smirked a little. "C'mon, Nakiri. You know you just miss her."

"It's not that at all!" Erina pinned him under her amethyst glare. "It's just Hisako was going to go see her, but then she got invited to speak at a TED conference so—"

"So you're going to spend time with your cousin, who you love."

"Fuck off," she said between sips of coffee and bites of toast. "Anyway, I'll be home a few days later than I originally planned."

"I might be in Sydney when you get back," he told her. "I'm heading there after I go check on the diner." Souma paused momentarily. "Oh, speaking of that. Thanks for what you did with the festival."

Erina's cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. "At this point, an amount like that is nothing between us," she said with a shrug.

"How'd you even find out about it?"

"Well, it's not like you told me," she said with a pointed look. "Besides, it's not like I did it _just_ for you. Eizan's corporation had been causing a lot of problems in the culinary world at large, so of course as the head of the Nakiri family I had to intervene—"

"Nakiri," Souma said, smirking at her.

"What?" she snapped.

"I never said anything about Eizan."

"I..well, I...nevertheless." Her face was beet red now, and Souma knew that her head would explode if he continued teasing her.

"Just take the thank you, Erina," he said, and then kissed her. "Even if it wasn't for me, I appreciate what you did for my hometown."

"W-whatever," she replied, glancing down. "If you really feel that way, next time save me the detective work and just tell me what's wrong. There are much better things my assistant can be doing with her time."

* * *

Auctoritas, the haute cuisine haven she'd opened at twenty-one, had always been where Erina went to gather her thoughts. It had been her first solo venture, completely unaffiliated with the Totsuki Network, and was a runaway success. The first two Michelin stars had practically flown into her hands.

Back then, she thought she had everything figured out. She was going to be a capital-C Career Woman and hold the culinary world underfoot. With Hisako as her skillful wing-woman, she had dated a string of attractive and influential men without ever holding strong feelings for any of them. Whenever a guy started to bore or annoy her, she cut him loose and started over.

Erina had found this lifestyle satisfactory, if not wholly fulfilling. At the very least she found it preferable to the dramatic highs and lows Hisako whiplashed through in her years-long love affair with Hayama—seriously, that whole thing was the stuff of romance novels.

But then, just as she'd been bracing her heart for the wedding invitation that would have surely catapulted her back into the melancholy of her unrequited high school love, the unthinkable happened. The one person she had conditioned herself to view as off limits suddenly became available, and all the men that had entertained her up until then were rendered wholly unsuitable. It would be him or no one; that was her heart's irrationality.

"Thank you for such a wonderful anniversary dinner, Erina," one of her regulars, a Barcelona-based fashion designer, said after her last dinner service of the week. Much to Alice's displeasure, she had stayed in Spain for an extra night just to see her.

"It was nothing special," Erina assured her as she took down her hair and calculated the time it would take her to reach the airport.

"No, it was," she insisted. "There was so much passion on the plate! I have to ask, have you taken up with a new lover?"

"It's nothing that exciting, Anita," she said with a small smile. "I've been with the same person for a while now."

The designer smirked. "So it's that chef—the one you made your little California love nest with—"

"Anita." Erina sighed.

"You have me so curious! And you know a little drama gets my creative juices flowing."

Erina shook her head; she would never be able to get out of here if she didn't appease her a little bit. "He um...called me by my first name," she said.

Anita made a slightly disappointed face. "So?" she asked. "I've seen men prostrate themselves for you in this very restaurant."

Erina shrugged. "It's different." Something in her facial expression must have given Anita what she wanted.

"I see. Well, congratulations," she said. "Although I do have one favor to ask."

"What is it?"

"Promise that you'll let me design your dress when the time comes."

Normally Erina would respond to a comment like this cynically, but something in Anita's trusting smile inhibited her. "After all the business you've brought me? You've got it," she said, and then they both took their leave.

* * *

"Thanks for taking the time to see me, Arato," Souma said as Hisako approached him in the Roppongi Hills cafe. "It is still 'Arato,' right?"

"Do you even have to ask?" the pink haired woman questioned as she walked over with her yerba mate latte. "I would never change the name I earned my doctorate under."

Souma nodded a few times. "Respect. Anyway, thanks again for coming here before your conference."

"No problem," she said. "It's not like _you_ asked me to fly to Europe on absolutely no notice or anything." Ah, so that was what had happened with Alice. "So what was this urgent matter pertaining to Erina-sama that you needed to discuss."

"Right." Souma scratched the back of his head. "I figured you'd know what kind of thing she would like."

"Anniversary gift?" she asked with a furrowed brow, as though Nakiri had told her a different date.

"Not exactly."

"So what—"

"Arato, I'm buying her an engagement ring," he said. "I was hoping you could help me out with the design and stuff. Nakiri has a habit of snooping, so I want to have the order in before she gets back from Denmark."

Hisako blinked a few times, processing everything he said, before a smile grew on her face. "W-why now? What brought this on?"

"I mean, why not now?"

She gave him a long I-will-not-accept-any-type-of-bullshit-response kind of look and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Look, I've been thinking a lot about it lately, and especially after the accident I can't imagine not having her in my life."

Hisako nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "Well it's about damn time. I've always rooted for you, but you should consider yourself lucky that she's waited for you as long as she has."

"What do you mean waited?" he asked her. "I don't even know if she's going to say yes."

At this, Arato heaved an enormous sigh. "That...that is not...Never mind, it's really not my place to tell you exactly why that isn't a plausible concern. Anyway, what's your budget for the ring?"

"It's pretty much unlimited," he told her.

"Good. That was the correct answer," she replied. "Now let's get to work. I have to be in Shanghai first thing tomorrow morning, and choosing the right central stone will take more time than we have. And how are you going to propose?"

"I was just going to ask her to marry me," Souma said. In his experience, that was how it usually went. "I mean Kurokiba basically threw the ring at Alice, so..."

"They're a special case," Hisako said with a dismissive wave. "But you're a creative type; you'll come up with something good. Anyway, let's talk side stones."

At this particular point, Yukihira Souma questioned exactly what he had gotten himself into.

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading, everyone! Also, it would be awesome if you guys gave me some suggestions for proposal ideas!


	15. Commitment by Combat

Erina wondered how it had ended up like this, with her waiting on Alice hand and foot while the Denmark Nakiris disappeared to catch up all on the work they'd been neglecting in order to entertain her.

"Erinaaaaa!" her cousin called from the living room. "Are you done with the tsukemen yet?"

"Calm yourself. I'm coming," she replied as she finished up in the kitchen. Erina adored her cousin—she really did—but if it wasn't for the fetus currently chilling inside of her uterus, she probably would have strangled her by now.

When she got back to the living room, Alice's hand was resting against her protruding stomach, her face twisted into a grimace.

"A-are you going into labor?" Erina asked, placing the tray down on the coffee table. "Should I drive you to the hospital? Call Auntie Leonora?"

Alice shook her head a little. "No," she said after a minute or so. "My spawn is just doing parkour in there."

Erina tilted her head to the side. "Really?"

"Mhmm. You wanna feel?" she asked.

Erina tentatively allowed her cousin to guide her hand to her stomach. "Wow!" she said once she felt a few particularly impressive kicks and jabs. "He's so strong!"

"It's all Ryo's fault." Alice crossed her arms, a tiny pout growing on her face. "You know how some people make their babies listen to Mozart to make them smarter?"

"I'm familiar with the concept."

"Well, my idiot husband played the entire Rocky series for him while I was sleeping. Four times." She heaved an annoyed sigh and started eating the noodles.

"So now he's...boxing?"

"Against my rib cage!" she growled. "But it's fine," she said, glancing down at the baby bump. "My spawn is gonna be all strong and handsome just like his father. But less of an idiot, though."

Erina smirked; Alice could never manage to be cross with Kurokiba for more than thirty seconds at a time. "I hope that's true for your sake."

"So when are you heading back to Japan?"

"Tomorrow," Erina said. "Kanon added an event at Totsuki to my schedule, although I don't remember there being any meetings."

"Maybe you're just getting old, Er-i-na."

The Nakiri in question rolled her eyes. "You say that, but you're the one with all the aches and pains."

"It's just because of my spawn!"

"If you say so," Erina said. "And how long are you going to keep calling my nephew that?"

"Forever," Alice replied with a flippant wave. "My spawn is going to help me achieve my goal of world domination, naturally. And he'll become the first seat and lead the Totsuki Network to new heights."

Erina raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"Of course not," Alice said before slurping up the rest of her noodles. "He's also gonna be a science prodigy and a gifted athlete and a great big brother to my future spawn."

"What if he can't manage all that?" Erina knew her cousin always erred on the side of childlike optimism, but this was a bit much even for her.

Alice shrugged. "He will. But even if he doesn't, I'll love him anyway."

At this, Erina gave a gentle smile. "Sounds nice," she said as she gazed out the window. "You might actually be a good mom."

"Were you seriously doubting it?"

"Well…."

"How rude, Erina! You come to my place and question my parenting skills?"

"I just said that I was wrong, so it's fine! If nothing else," she said, her voice lowering. "You and Kurokiba will raise a happy child."

Alice only shot her a sidelong look. "Not if he never has a cousin to hang out with."

Erina groaned. "You're the worst."

"Yes, but that's why you love me," Alice said. "Now can you make me and my spawn a tuna?"

"No fish, remember?"

"A steak then? Please, Erina."

"Whatever." At this point, part of her wanted to have a kid just to make her cousin return the favor.

* * *

"Kanon, are you sure about this?" Erina asked as she slid into the limo beside her assistant, dressed in her whites. "It's unusual for me to do a cooking demonstration."

The young woman, a university student who looked quite a bit like Erina herself, gave an apologetic smile. "I believe Doujima-dono thought it would raise morale among the students. It's been a difficult year for the academy, and this is the first time in generations that the headmaster hasn't been a member of the Nakiri family."

"That's fair," Erina said as they left the main office. "Although, I see no flaws with the current administration." She doubted that even her Uncle Soe could have done a better job. "Do you know what dish I'm supposed to make for this demonstration?"

"Naturally, it's up to your discretion, Nakiri-san," Kanon said. "But there was a theme listed in the memo."

"And that would be?"

"The egg."

A small smile tugged at Erina's lips. "That's an interesting theme."

"Really?" Kanon asked. "Does it have some special significance to you?"

"Maybe." Erina glanced out the window as they neared Totsuki. The academy's opulent towers were peeking out over the trees, all dressed in their vibrant autumn colors. "Kanon, what's on my schedule for tomorrow?"

"Nothing until your dinner service," she replied after quickly scanning the calendar. Erina was so glad Yukihira convinced her to hire this girl. "Is there something you need me to add?"

"A flight to Australia. On my jet, preferably, so I can get back in time…" She paused, her eyes narrowing. "What are you smiling about, Kanon?"

"Oh nothing," she said as they pulled up in front of Chandra's Hall. "It's just, a year ago, you would have never asked for something like that."

Erina sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. What had she been thinking? "I really am losing focus, aren't I?" she said. "You know, part of your job is to keep me in check. The way Hisako does."

"Arato-san made me explicitly aware of that responsibility," Kanon said, some of the attitude Erina _knew_ she had seeping into her tone. "But I think it's good to make time for the things that are important to you—even if they feel frivolous sometimes. That's why I always pack my lunch instead of buying it."

"Is that so?" Erina asked as they got out of the car and climbed the stairs to the arena.

She nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow Nakiri-san," the girl said before leaving her side to join the audience. She left before Erina could remind her that there was still some paperwork to attend to at the office.

The strobe lights were always blinding in Chandra's Hall, more so than in any other shokugeki stadium. The last time she had cooked there—when she lost her first seat to Yukihira—she had tripped and nearly fell on her face halfway to the elevated platform. This time she avoided that mistake by keeping her eyes low, focusing her attention on the chattering of the student spectators.

That was probably why she didn't notice the three judges until they were at eye level—Hisako on the left, her grandfather in the middle, and none other than Saiba Jouichirou on the right hand side. "What the—"

"It's been a while, Erina," Jouichirou said with a casual wave. "Nice job with the menu at Canvas, by the way."

"S-Saiba-sama!"

"You know, after today, you're going to have to stop calling me that."

Erina hardly had enough time to process what he said before she turned to the apparent head judge. "Grandfather, when did you leave Denmark?"

"A few hours before you did," the old man explained. "There are some things that a person simply cannot miss."

Erina's brow furrowed. "But this is just a simple cooking demonstration. Why are you all—"

"It's going to make sense in a minute, Erina-sama," Hisako chimed in, her eyes welling with what appeared to be tears of joy. "Although it's strange for me to say, I hope you lose."

"Have you all lost your min―"

"Yo, Nakiri."

As soon as she heard his voice, that teasing tone, Erina knew for certain that this wasn't just an absurd dream.

She turned around slowly. He was dressed in his OG Restaurant Yukihira gear, smirking at her and leaning against one of the cooking stations.

Erina stomped over to him, her hands balled into tight fists. "Of course you're responsible for this," she said. "Why did you bring my grandfather here for some weird spectacle? And aren't you supposed to be in Australia?"

"Nakiri, breathe," he said, taking her hand in his. For a moment, she was tempted to rest her forehead against his chest, breathe in his scent. She remembered that she had been missing him before all this craziness began. "You'll accept it, won't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"A shokugeki," he finally said as he pulled something from his back pocket.

"We could have done this at home," she almost groaned. But then he dropped to one knee, and Erina could hear her heart hammering beneath her ribcage. "W-what?"

"Nakiri Erina," he said. "The last time we were here, ten years ago, you gave me a shot at the thing I wanted most in this world. You entertained the request of an idiot, even though you had no reason to accept. Today, I'm asking you to do that for me one more time."

"Y-Yukihira—"

He opened the velvet box to reveal a gorgeous ring. It was a stunning black diamond, haloed by six traditional ones, on a magnificent white gold band. "We've gone back and forth a million times trying to beat each other, but if I win today, will you marry me, Nakiri?"

"I…" Erina tried to prevent it, but two tears escaped from her eyes. If it wasn't for her grandfather and all the minors watching, she would have had him right then and there. "I suppose I have no choice but to accept," she said, trying to keep her composure. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you went and proposed to me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Souma said as he stood up. "What's the time limit?"

"Thirty minutes." She wanted this settled fast. "And you better impress me."

"You better not lie about being impressed."

"That was one time!"

"Just kidding, Nakiri." Souma winked at her, then placed the engagement ring on the judges' table, right in front of her grandfather. "Gramps, hold on to this for a minute."

Before she could think much about her strategy, Erina found herself creating a spin on the omurice he cooked for her the first time she spent the night at his place in Paris. She remembered sitting on the couch in one of his T-shirts, thinking that this thing between them would only last until he and Tadokoro-san got back together.

As she moved on to her plating, Erina thought less of the past and more of the future, of all the joys and sorrows yet to come. She wondered what she would ask for if she won the match, and nothing came to mind.

"Hey, Nakiri, is that my omelette?" Souma asked as he glanced up from his own work. "You even did the souffle thing!"

"Please. I took your pedestrian street fare and elevated it. Is there a problem with that?"

"Nope," he replied. "It's funny. I tried something similar."

With the understanding that she would spontaneously combust if she acknowledged whatever sweet thing he did, Erina decided to ignore him until she was finished. By the time she submitted her dish for judging, all the students in the audience were swooning over the smell of it. Her grandfather gave a small nod of approval.

"Can't believe my stupid son got a girl like you," Jouichirou said after he tried his portion.

"You saved some for me, right?" Souma asked once he had presented the judges with his dish.

Erina rolled her eyes. "Obviously." She gave her hair the tiniest of flips. "Knowing you, you probably got so wrapped up in planning this that you didn't eat anything all day."

He gave her a long look. "Nakiri."

"What?" she asked.

"We're not even engaged yet and you're already nagging."

"S-shut up!" Erina shoved a plate into his hands, blushing all the while. "I'm going to nag you forever, so you may as well get accustomed to it."

As the judging continued, Souma served a portion of his dish to Erina. She nearly gasped when she saw it. It was a play on the oyakodon she had created in the regiment de cuisine as a play on his rice with seasoning from the entrance exam. He had truly gone back to the beginning of them.

"I've got one question for you, Nakiri," he said as she stood poised to take the first bite. "Is it delicious or disgusting?"

Erina carefully blew on the first steaming spoonful and brought it to her mouth. She could feel a heat growing in her core, heard a blissful aria on the wind—a song of hope. It would be their song.

"You're an idiot," she said, and kissed him, just as the judges declared the match in his favor.

"I love you too," he replied; it seemed like he finally understood her feelings. "And I love how you still won't answer the question."

"As if that's even the point right now!" she huffed.

Souma shook his head at her. "Always an excuse with you." Then he went back to the judges' table to grab the ring.

"Congratulations to you both," Hisako said.

"Thanks for all your help with this, Arato."

"Really, Hisako?" Erina asked her friend. "You couldn't even give me a hint?"

"W-well..."

"I'm trusting you to do right by her, Yukihira Souma," Senzaemon told him before handing back the little black box.

"I promise I will, Gramps."

The old man nodded his approval.

"You may have lost to me 750 times," Jouichirou said. "But at least you didn't screw up the one that mattered, eh Souma."

"First of all, it was only 743 times—" Souma paused when he felt Erina's impatient glare on his back. "And I do not have time for this right now."

He went back to her and pulled out the ring, taking her left hand in his right. "Nakiri Erina, will you marry me?"

"You should know the answer already," she said. "For all those affiliated with Totsuki Academy, the rules of the shokugeki are absolute."

He slid the ring onto her third finger, then kissed her. "What would you have asked for if you won?"

"I honestly don't know." In truth, she probably would have made him stop smoking or something, but there would be time for that later.

"Let's head home," he said.

"I'd like that."

With all his usual finesse, Nakiri Senzaemon declared the shokugeki finished, and the participants, spectators, and judges all went their separate ways.

Later that night, as they rested in bed after much sex, champagne, and neglected paperwork, Souma turned to his fiancee, brushing the hair out of her face.

"What is it?" she asked around a little yawn.

"I hope I can make you happy," he said, his golden eyes unusually serious.

Erina smiled gently, burying her face into his chest. "You do."

 **Author's Notes:** Thank you to everyone who sent in suggestions for the proposal! I ended up going with the majority and using a shokugeki. With Souma and Erina's engagement, we've pretty much reached the end of the story, although there will by one or more epilogue chapters. I'd really like to thank you all for reading, reviewing, and supporting this story! I definitely would not have been able to get this far without you. Thank you again for everything, and I hope you have a great day!


	16. One Year Later

Every full-time Tōtsuki employee—from the housekeeping staff at the hotels to the tenured faculty at the academy—was guaranteed a minimum of twelve weeks paid parental leave when the little ones arrived. Unfortunately, the reigning Queen of the Tōtsuki Network didn't count as an employee per se, and truthfully the organization could hardly manage without her for half that time.

So that was why Erina, on a particular Friday morning in December, was scooping her seven-week-old out of his crib for a trek to the Nakiri Group's downtown Tokyo headquarters.

"Okay, my love," she whispered to her son, hoping she'd be able to get him into his winter clothes without making him cry. To his credit, Erina knew that many layers would make her want to cry too, but he was still too small for her to take any chances. "Looks like you're coming to the office with me because daddy's flight got delayed."

She tried to keep her voice cheery as she said this—baby could sense changes in her mood—even as she rolled her eyes. "Mommy knew this would happen, didn't she?" she cooed as she zipped up his little Burberry jacket and nuzzled him.

"Mommy said commercial flights are unreliable with the kind of snow they're getting in New York. Mommy said just take the private jet; that's why we have it. But no, daddy didn't listen out of loyalty to his plebeian roots—misguided loyalty at that since the owners of those big airlines are probably even wealthier than we are. Your daddy can be outrageously stupid sometimes, right?"

She liked to imagine that he nodded in response. At the very least, her theatrics seemed to get a lopsided grin out of him. "Don't worry, though. You'll take after me." The blond hair and amethyst eyes were just a start.

With an exaggerated sigh, the baby in her right arm, the baby-bag bag on her left shoulder and the briefcase on her left wrist, new mom Nakiri Erina—who had not changed her last name—made her way to the car that was waiting downstairs.

To his credit, the baby made it through two conference calls and a meeting with mommy before he decide he was over the work environment. "You better take notes, Raiden," she had whispered to him before she started reaming out her board of directors. "This is all going to be yours someday." In the years to come Alice and Hisako would tell her she was probably imagining it, but it really did seem like he was paying attention.

But when his patience inevitably ran out—more specifically, when the office phone started ringing just when she'd put him down for a nap—of course Erina understood. _She_ didn't want to be in this office half the time, so why would an infant?

"There there," she said, rocking her son with one hand and typing an email with the other. "Mommy's here. We're just gonna check in with the hosts for this year's Stagiaire, and then we can go home. How does that sound?"

She usually wouldn't take off early, but strictly speaking she could get everything else done remotely. It would look bad, she knew, but…

"Erina-san," her personal assistant Kanon said from the doorway. "Your husband is on his way up."

 _Oh, thank goodness._

"Sorry 'bout the delay, Nakiri." They shared a brief kiss when he arrived, and Erina was poised to forgive him…but then the baby started crying again. She sighed and continued to rock him.

"Don't apologize to me," she quipped. "Apologize to your son. And then take him home so I can get some work done."

While Erina got their still miserable baby bundled up again, Souma started juggling a couple of pens he'd found somewhere on her desk. Within seconds the sobs turned to laughter.

He smirked at her once their little prince was sufficiently amused. "And you said juggling was a useless skill."

"It still is. That's why only an infant would be entertained by it." Erina rolled her eyes, holding back a little smile. What a surprise it had been—actually, no one had been surprised—when the crown princess of the Tōtsuki network married the fool. "What time do you need to be there for your dinner service?"

"Before seven."

"I'll try to be home around six." That gave her another four hours to finish things up at the office before resuming mommy duty once again.

"Alright! You tapping out?" With Raiden in his right arm, Souma held his left palm out to Erina. She shook her head—of all the strange rituals—but still lightly tapped his hand.

"Whatever. See you tonight."

Erina got home forty minutes later than she intended because shit happens when you run companies the size of small kingdoms. She fed the baby at 7:30—and one last time at eleven—before tucking him, and then herself, into bed. For a few blissful hours, the new mother was lost to the realm of REM sleep.

From what she could tell, Souma came home around one or two and intercepted their son's first middle of the night wailing session.

At four, when she heard the second one starting over the baby monitor, Erina sat up slowly. "My turn," she sighed, when she saw her husband awake as well.

"It's been your turn all week," Souma said before rolling out of bed. "Go back to sleep."

Well, she wasn't gonna argue with that. Still, since they were married now, she only felt it right to warn him. "You're gonna regret that on Monday when you still haven't shaken the jetlag."

Despite her better judgment, instead of going straight back to bed, Erina started checking her Facebook notifications. She immediately saw the post that all of her friends in different timezones had been commenting on and smiled.

"What's that look for?" Souma asked, smirking when he came back in, baby in tow. "Manga spoilers out already?"

Oooh. If it wasn't for her son in his arms, Erina would have thrown a pillow at him. "Do I judge what you do for fun?"

"All the fucking time, Nakiri."

She gave her hair an indignant flip before turning back to the picture on her screen. "Yoshino-san just gave birth."

"Boy or girl?" he asked. It had been a major topic up for debate in the Polar Star group chat for weeks now.

"A girl." She turned the phone around to show him the picture. "They're naming her Yuna. We should probably send a gift."

"How about a—"

"For the last time, we are not sending _anyone_ a Restaurant Yukihira onesie!" It was crazy how many times they've had to have that conversation in the past year.

"Looks like Alice was right," he pointed out, reading her mind in that way she'd never been sure if she loved or hated.

As soon as she had her son Erik back in January, Alice had declared that this was the year when the new jewel generation would be born. "I suppose she was due for a sound idea."

"You Nakiris have some weird superpowers. I wonder what this one's gonna end up with."

"Well, that's easy." Erina reached over to smooth down her son's golden hair. "He's an all-around genius," she declared. "You should have seen him today. He was completely following the board meeting. He'll be at the top of his class in no time."

Souma looked at her for a long while after that, half-smirking. "I don't doubt it." Suddenly he reached for his phone on the nightstand. "That reminds me, though. While I was stuck at the airport, I went on this design site and—"

"Oh lord." Erina braced herself for whatever foolishness he concocted in the throes of his boredom. She was more than pleasantly surprised when the result was actually kind of nice. There was a onesie with little crown hovering above the words Future First Seat. The Tōtsuki logo was printed on the back along with the number 119. They had done the math months before their son was born; Raiden, Erik, and their goddaughter, Akane, would all be part of the academy's 119th generation.

Erina hummed appreciatively. "That's not half bad."

"There's more." He then showed her two matching adult T-shirts that read Former First Seat, with Tōtsuki 92 printed on the back.

Now that was downright Instagramable. And it would piss Alice off to no end.

"Order them," Erina said quietly, the words tasting like defeat on her god tongue.

"Already did."

She smiled. With the proper regalia, their little prince would come into his culinary kingdom in no time flat.

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading, everyone! This piece was originally one of my entries for last year's Sorina Week, but I thought it might fit well here.


	17. The Terrible Three

_Five Years Post-Proposal_

After studying the careers of culinary trailblazers like the Nakiri cousins and Arato Hisako, one might be tempted to ask how any of them had time to even think of raising children.

The answer, of course, was teamwork. You see, when Souma had to jet off to Paris and Erina to Vienna, they could always count on Alice to look after their son in Denmark. Likewise, when Alice and Ryo felt the sudden urge to go skiing and beer tasting up in the alps, their kid always had a second home at Akira and Hisako's London flat.

It was a convenient system, one that allowed them to keep their fast-paced lifestyle without constantly passing their kids off to strangers, but it wasn't without its drawbacks. For example, now, by some fluke of the child-rearing cooperative, Souma and Erina were going to have _three_ four-year-olds for the next ten days.

They would object to the age grouping, she knew. There was a hierarchy. Erik was nearly five, Akane soundly four and a half. Even Raiden, whose birthday was just last month, would try to argue that he was still somehow more than just four.

Erina shook her head at the thought. Toddler logic exhausted her to no end.

"We can do this, right?" she asked her husband, glancing lazily at the spreadsheet in front of her.

"Of course," Souma said, lacing up his winter boots. In a few minutes he was going to get Erik from the airport. "Our kid's the bad one, remember?"

"Don't I know it," Erina said with a small laugh. Usually Akane was a little angel, and Erik was too lazy to try anything, but her son never failed to draw them both into some kind of mischief. "He gets that shit from you."

Souma shot her a sidelong glance. "Keep telling yourself that, Erina."

She met his gaze, eyebrows fractionally raised. "You can't be suggesting that it's me."

He shrugged. "I didn't have time to be bad as a kid. I had chores."

She rolled her eyes. "I bet you still managed."

* * *

It was uncanny, really, how after playing or watching TV or whatever he was doing for the past few hours, Raiden miraculously emerged from his room as soon as Hisako dropped Akane off.

Erina barely had enough time to get her goddaughter out of her tiny peacoat and boots before Raiden pulled her to the other side of the room, unfolding a piece of blue construction paper and whispering something to her. Suspicious.

Erina turned the Netflix original she had been watching down to catch wind of anything illegal or dangerous. The conversation seemed to go as follows:

 _whisperwhisperwhisper_

"No way!"

"Shh!"

 _whisperwhisperwhisperwhisper_

"Is it safe?"

"I think so."

 _whisperwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisper_

"Should we wait for Erik?"

"Nah."

Then, simultaneously, they turned to look at her.

"Ma, we're gonna go play upstairs."

"Bye, auntie!"

Then they were off.

Something in Erina melted as she watched them scamper up the duplex's winding staircase. "Don't do anything too—" The door closed with a resounding clap "…crazy."

Erina sat halfway up the stairs for a few minutes, waiting for some telltale crash or scream, but all she heard was some early 00s cartoon playing in her son's bedroom. With a relieved sigh, she decided to let them be and went to answer a few emails in her home office.

About a half hour later, when she ventured back to Raiden's room to see what the kids wanted for lunch, Erina found that both of them were gone. She took a deep breath, trying to quell the anxiety rising within her.

They were probably playing hide and seek, right? They did that all the time. Calmly, but as quickly as she possibly could, Erina checked in all the closets and under all the beds in the apartment. Finding them nowhere, she tried the smarter hiding spaces—behind the shower curtains, in the cabinets, at the bottom of the hamper.

As the minutes ticked by, she started checking the taboo spots—the ovens, the edge of the balcony, the washing machine—even though she had told him a million and six times not to play in them.

She felt herself breathing faster and faster, and brought her right palm to her chest, trying not to panic. Where could those two have possibly gone? Should she call Souma? Hisako? The police? The national guard?

It was only when she found herself staring down into the vast blackness of the confectioner's oven, tears pricking at her eyes, that her son called out to her.

"Hey ma, what are you looking for?"

Erina blinked once. Twice. The voice sounded like it had come from above her. Strange, indeed. Wearily, she turned her gaze to the air vent, and there he was. He even had the audacity to wave at her.

"Wha…how the hell did you even…" She heaved a great sigh. From what she could tell he was utterly covered in dust, but fine.

"Look, ma. We found a tunnel that leads from my bathroom all the way to here. Isn't that cool?"

Erina shook her head. "Just come down from there, okay?"

"You mean now?"

"I mean five minutes ago," she said, a hint of a growl finding its way into her voice.

"Got it! About face, Hayama," he said to the pink haired girl who was always right behind him.

"Roger," she heard Akane reply.

Erina made her way back upstairs to make sure they didn't fall on their way down. Once she had them both safe and reasonably clean again, she sat them down on the couch.

"Do you know why what you just did is dangerous?"

They both shook their heads, and Erina smiled a little despite herself. Of course they didn't; the stunts in about a million and six Hollywood films suggested otherwise.

"The vent might look like a tunnel, but it's not. The only thing it's designed to carry is air. Because the two of you are both heavier than air"—though not by much, she thought— "it could collapse under your weight and you can fall and get seriously hurt. Understand?"

They both nodded emphatically, and Erina almost laughed at Akane's bright pink ponytail bobbing behind her.

"Good. Now, _never_ do something like that again," she said, her voice stern. "You hear me?"

"Okay, ma."

"Yes, auntie."

"You guys in trouble already?" Souma asked as he came through the front door, their pale-haired nephew and his duffel bag in tow.

"Not really," Erina said. They seemed repentant enough. "Now what do you kids want for lunch?"

The three of them shared a long look, amethyst eyes to jade, jade to garnet. Then the children responded with one voice, "Shokugeki."

* * *

In the great December grilled cheese battle, Erina was defeated by her husband 3-0. It was only the second time in her life—the first being when he proposed to her—that she'd lost to him by such a large margin. Even when he took the first seat from her back in high school, he only beat her by a single vote.

Her decisive victory during the katsudon dinner card did nothing to help her wounded pride. How had the god tongue failed?

"I think you went a little overboard with the truffle oil," he said as they lay in bed that night, both of them utterly exhausted. "They're still just babies."

"Foodie babies!" she fired back. All three of them had more advanced palates than the average thirty-year-old. "But I think you're right," she sighed. Erina shrugged out of her robe, pinning him under her signature I-want-a-fucking-massage gaze.

"C'mon Nakiri, I'm tired."

"If you don't I'm going to be grumpy in the morning."

Souma opened his mouth, about to say something slick, but then he sighed and gave in to her wishes.

A few minutes later, as she found herself on the cusp of dreaming, a sharp rumbling that sounded suspiciously like a blender began downstairs, followed shortly by a splat, a flurry of muffled giggles, and an elongated _shhhhhhhhh_.

She groaned, put her robe back on.

Souma laughed a bit, shaking his head. "Nine more days."

"We can do this, right?" she asked again.

He smirked at her, leaving a brief kiss on her lips. "You know it."


End file.
